


From the Barricade to the Mission (Or, the Friends of the ABC and their destiny to the Alamo)

by ColonelTravis1836



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: The Alamo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-06 01:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColonelTravis1836/pseuds/ColonelTravis1836
Summary: The 1832 Insurrection has ended. The surviving rebels are sentenced into exile, out of France and into the American frontier. Little do they know, that they have wandered into yet another land of political struggles, and another rebellion against tyranny. But what will lie in store for Enjolras, Combeferre, Bossuet, Joly, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly, when they learn that the same kind of flag that they flew on the Barricade, will have a completely different meaning? What if this time around, there will be no quarter? No prisoners?The Friends of the ABC will be given a second chance to rise to the call for a Republic, as they raise their rifles in the air with Colonel Travis, Jim Bowie, Davy Crockett, Captain Dickinson, and 180 more men, defending the Fort that was once a Mission.They will fight in the  Thirteen Days of Glory, at the Siege of Alamo





	1. Chapter 1

_“In the Southern part of Texas, in the town of San Antone,_

_Stands a Fortress all in ruins that the weeds have overgrown._

_You may look in vain for crosses and you’ll never see a one._

_But sometime between the setting and the rising of the sun,_

_You can hear a ghostly bugle as the men go marching by_

_You can hear them as they answer to that roll call in the sky.”_

**JUNE 10th, 1832**

**Paris, France**

It has been four days since the June Rebellion ended. The Les Amis de l'ABC held firmly at their barricade on the Rue de Chanvierre. If the people had come to their aid, perhaps the Uprising could've lasted longer.

 

But the people did not stir. The battle barely lasted a day. And yet King Louie Phillipe was not going to take chances. He chose not to underestimate the influence of the rebel leaders. To have them publicly executed in front of the same people they fought could prove dangerous for the King; their deaths will bring them martyrdom.

 

So instead, he wrote his executive order and had it sent to the Court of Justice, where the rebel prisoners were held.

 

In the courtroom stood the remaining survivors of the barricade:

 

Enjolras, the leader; Combeferre, the Guide; Feuilly, the Worker; Courfeyrac, the Centre; Bossuet, the Unlucky One; Joly, the Hypochondriac; and Grantaire, the Cynic.

 

Their society is incomplete: Bahorel, the Brawn, was killed in the First Attack on the night of June 5th, when the National Guard breached the barricade. Jehan Prouvaire, the Poet, was taken prisoner and executed on the spot. Eponine Thenardier, the Gamin, took a bullet for Marius Pontmercy, who managed to escape the barricade during the Third Attack with the help of ex-convict Jean Valjean.

 

It wasn't until the death of Gavroche Thenardier, the Urchin, that the Army Commander had called for a ceasefire. Sure, he was gathering ammunition, but that was no excuse for the murder of a child.

 

When the National Guard cornered the remaining rebels, the Army Commander requested a truce in exchange for a fair trial.

 

The Seven remaining rebels were asked to stand in court as the Judge was about to deliver the sentence.

 

"Messrs. Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Joly, Bossuet de Maux, and Grantaire, you have all been found guilty of treason and disturbance of the peace. In the mercy of His Majesty, it has been decided that the seven of you have been sentenced into exile. The Court will allow you one week to set your affairs here under close supervision, before you are to be escorted to Calais, where a ship bound for America will be waiting for you." The Judge said before banging on his gavel.

 

The Seven rebels looked at each other briefly before they were escorted out of the courtroom.

 

!

 

Courfeyrac was folding his clothes before placing them into his luggage bag. Marius was sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

"How is everyone else taking this?" Marius asked.

 

Courfeyrac did not answer. He continued packing his clothes without even looking up at Marius.

 

"I'd imagine Enjolras is taking it pretty bad. His love for France...this would be devastating for him." Marius continued.

 

Again, Courfeyrac did not reply. Instead, he slammed his luggage shut.

 

"Have I offended you in anyway, Courfeyrac?" Marius asked after another minute of silence.

 

Courfeyrac huffed and turned abruptly to Marius. "You have a lot of nerve, to come over here as if everything is all ok." he said.

 

Marius shrugged his shoulders. "I never said anything about everything being okay. I've already apologized to everyone for not being there to share your sentence. I did not desert any of you. Cosette's Father got me out of the way."

 

Courfeyrac pointed a finger at Marius. "I do not give a damn about how you escaped. The least you could have done for us was to turn yourself in, or maybe have spoken out for us. No, you just stood idly by while the judge passed sentence."

 

"Courfeyrac, I cannot emphasize on how sorry I am for what happened." Marius began.

 

"Save it for your bride to be, Marius. Once we're out of France you two will get married and forget we ever existed...and after the effort I put in to help you too! I got you a room to rent."

 

Finally taking all he can, Marius stood up to face Courfeyrac.

 

"What do you want me to do, Courfeyrac? Try and petition the King to pardon all of you? Find some voodoo priest to bring back Prouvaire, Bahorel and the others? What do you want of me?"

Courfeyrac looked Marius dead in the eye and said "I want you to leave."

 

Marius couldn't believe the words coming out of his best friend's mouth. Had the Battle affected him somehow? Was there something He could've done to help things end differently? Whatever it was, there would be no turning back now. The Seven fugitives would be exiled out of France and become America's problem.

 

"If there is nothing for it then...Bonne chance, Courfeyrac." Marius said.

 

Courfeyrac resumed packing and said "Et toi."

 

!

 

Enjolras and Combeferre have finished their packing and walked out of their apartment.

 

Combeferre barely recognized his best friend ever since the sentencing. Instead of a face full of anger and determination, there was a hint of sadness and defeat.

 

As if he could sense Combeferre's concerns, Enjolras said out loud "We put in so much effort into a better France. We've lost comrades. And yet the people did nothing..."

 

Combeferre sighed and placed his hand on Enjolras's shoulder. "There are those that wish to observe the fight for independence from a safe distance. Who knows? Maybe in a few years, the people will rise again."

 

Enjolras shook his head. "It does not matter to me if they do. As far as I am concerned, France is dead to me."

 

Combeferre stopped in his tracks. "What did you just say?!"

 

“I said France is dead to me!” Enjolras said louder. Combeferre could’ve sworn there was a tear in his eye.

 

“You do not really mean that, mon ami.” He said, adjusting his glasses.

 

“I wish I didn’t. But France has turned her back on me. There is nothing left for me to do but to do the same to her.”

 

“Ah Hah! Just what I was expecting to hear!” a harsh voice shouted behind them. The two to find Grantaire with his knapsack over his shoulder.

 

“Grantaire, now is not the time.” Combeferre said, trying to keep the peace. Enjolras pushed past him.

 

“Listen to me, Grantaire, you can say whatever you want about France. I don’t care anymore! But so, help me, if you so much as try to bring me and our comrades down all the same, I will insist that you leave the group permanently!”

 

Grantaire simply stared and said “Whatever you say, Apollo.”

 

**!**

 

 

Joly and Bossuet were taking turns in embracing Musichetta, as they were all standing on the docks in Calais. This was hard for all of them equally.

 

“We promise, as soon as we make enough money, we’ll send for you. And we can start our lives together in America.” Joly said.

 

“It’s said to be a whole new world over there. Maybe there will be better opportunities for us.” Bossuet added.

 

Musichetta nodded amidst tears and said “Just make sure you stay safe this time.”

 

Joly and Bossuet hugged her together one last time.

 

Courfeyrac had walked to the docks with Feuilly while Enjolras and Combeferre arrived with Grantaire in tow.

 

When they all met, the National Guardsmen escorted them onto the ship. Enjolras turned to a soldier and simply said “I wonder if it satisfies you and your men; the blood of a young girl and a little boy rest on your hands. I only hope for your sake; the King knows what he’s doing.”

 

And with that, the seven exiled revolutionaries boarded the ship that was to take them to the New World.

 

**FEBRUARY 8 th, 1836**

**GALVESTON, PROVENCE OF TEXAS**

It has been roughly three and a half years since their move to America. Their ship had made port in New Orleans. Being amongst Frenchmen, it was not hard to find work there.

 

Bossuet and Joly had sent for Musichetta to come with them and join their group.

 

In the past few months, what was left of the Friends of the ABC have heard stories about new lands and new opportunities for a new Provence of Mexico called Texas.

 

Realizing they still had a whole new world to explore, it was decided amongst them that they should pack up and begin a new adventure.

 

So, they set arrived by boat in the Port of Galveston and purchased a covered wagon and four horses to begin their little escapade.

 

One week later, they had stopped their posse on a road overlooking a town ahead of them.

 

**FEBRUARY 15 th, 1836**

**SAN ANTONIO DE BEXAR, PROVENCE OF TEXAS**

Combeferre pulled his horse to a stop and took out his telescope and held it to his eye. “It amazes me…” he began. “We’ve grown up our whole lives surrounded by streets, and buildings and bourgeoisie. Now, right up ahead of us, is a small little town surrounded by nothing but plains and sand, and meadows. It really puts things in perspective…”

 

“You mean like, how empty and vacant our future looks right now?” Grantaire joked from inside the wagon. Enjolras, who drove the wagon, looked behind and glared at him. “I only jest!” He held up his hands in defense.

 

Combeferre gave his telescope to Courfeyrac, who rode the second horse.

 

“Well ain’t this a perdy little town!” He laughed.

 

Joly poked his head out from out of the wagon. “Oh, dear lord, you’ve started talking like them. Bossuet, are you sure it’s not some kind of disease?!”

 

“I’m positive, Joly. Courfeyrac’s just being Courfeyrac.” Bossuet answered back.

 

“He’s right.” Feuilly added. “Remember when I first met you all, and I still had my Polish accent? And ever since then I began talking like the lot of you!”

 

Combeferre took his telescope back and examined the town more. “Well then maybe our Texian Tour Guide here can translate for us what… C-A-N-T-I-N-A, stands for?”

 

Musichetta poked her head out next to Joly while holding a little notebook. “Oh! I’m on it!” She said as she was flipping through the pages. “Cantina…a Spanish translation for bar, or wine shop.”

 

“Well, sign me up!” Grantaire declared.

 

“No, Grantaire!” Enjolras bellowed. “At least not yet. We have to scout the area first, find out if they have an inn.”

 

“This is the only town we could find within hundreds of miles. They’re bound to have an inn.” Bossuet commented.

 

Combeferre and Enjolras looked at each other. Their eye contacts held a silent council, and they both agreed that there was nothing else to do but to move forward.

 

Feuilly emerged from the wagon and sat next to Enjolras. “Hey, look over there!” he pointed.

 

The group turned their attention to what appeared to be an encampment of some kind. 

 

“Hey Guide!” Feuilly called to Combeferre. “Can you see if you can make any sense of that over there?”

 

Combeferre slowed his horse down to a trot and he focused his telescope on Feuilly’s discovery. “Well…” he began, studying the architecture of the wall. “I’m no religious expert, but I think that may be a Mission, or something. Musichetta, can you confirm my thoughts?”

 

Musichetta nodded and pulled out her map and notebook.

 

“Okay…it says here that that building outside of the main village…is called the _Misión San Antonio de Valero._ It was founded almost a hundred years ago, by the Spanish Catholics. It was a part of the Spanish Government’s quest to bring Catholicism to the Native American tribes. So, if I’m not mistaken, this must be the town called San Antonio de Bexar.” Musichetta said, pointing back to the town.

 

Combeferre tipped his hat and said jokingly. “Much obliged, ma’am.”

 

 

**!**

It was midday by the time they had reached the town square.

 

Courfeyrac tipped his hat to several young women as they looked at the newcomers with wonder.

 

“What are those peculiar dresses they are wearing?” Feuilly asked.

 

Bossuet shrugged his shoulders. “When they say a ‘whole new world’, they don’t fool around!”

 

Combeferre looked up ahead and saw someone approaching them. He was a man not as dark-skinned as Bossuet, but tan. Combeferre pulled out a little book from his jacket pocket and spoke very slowly.

 

“ _Hola..._ um… _Soy Combeferre._ And…uh… _Somos…nuevos…en la ciudad…_ Uh, let me see…um… _¿Alguien…aquí habla…inglés?”_

 

The man looked at Combeferre for a slow moment before smiling and said “Was that your first time, Senor?”

 

Combeferre hung his head. “That bad, huh?”

 

The friendly man shook his head. “No, you do quite well. You are all American?” he asked.

 

Combeferre quickly looked at Enjolras who turned his head the other way. Obviously, someone was going to ask for their backgrounds, so Combeferre motioned for the man to lean in to make the conversation personal.

 

“Uh, not quite, Monsieur. We are French…or rather we were. We were sentenced into exile for…well…it’s a long story. But, no we are not American.”

 

The man extended his hand. “Well you are welcome here in San Antonio nonetheless. I am Captain Juan Seguin, Magistrate of San Antonio…or former, I can never tell with these people!” He laughed. “Come, come! Let me show you guys to the inn, and we’ll have a nice little talk.”

 

Combeferre looked to Enjolras for approval, to which the latter shrug his shoulders. Combeferre and Courfeyrac steered their horses to the racks where they dismounted and tied the horses up before following Captain Seguin. Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta and Feuilly followed them while Enjolras and Grantaire rode ahead to find a place to park the wagon.

 

When the group entered the Cantina, Seguin motioned for everyone to take a seat before Combeferre pulled him to the side.

 

“Now I’ve only a minute before Enjolras…the man driving the wagon returns. The reason we were exiled from France, is we’ve been convicted for acts of treason to the Crown…we um…stirred up a little bit of trouble, so to speak.”

 

His eyes caught sight of someone sitting in a corner of the room. He did not have a drink or a bottle nearby, but parchments and a quill. He was dressed in a light blue waist coat, and had a well-kept straw hat hanging on the chair opposite him. The man stopped writing but kept his head down.

 

“Treason, eh? Go on.” Seguin beckoned.

 

“Well…we believed that the King was mistreating the People of France. And we, my friends and I, decided as a group, to stand up for what we believed was right…and long story short, we somewhat formed an Insurrection. But it didn’t work out in our favor, and we were all exiled because of it.”

 

“Well at least those of us that’ve made it alive.” Enjolras said as he entered the Cantina, followed by Grantaire.

 

Combeferre rubbed his forehead as Enjolras continued.

 

“We lost a few good men, an innocent girl, and a little boy in the fight for a Republic. And yet the People did not stand with us. They abandoned us!”

 

“Peace, Enjolras!” Combeferre grabbed a hold of Enjolras’s shoulder. “We’re among friends now.”

 

It was at this moment that the man in the blue waistcoat got up from his chair and approached the newcomers. Combeferre noticed that he had a red sash tied around his waist, a double sheathed belt with a saber in one, and a flintlock pistol in another.

 

“I’ve read something about such an uprising. Are you referring to the June Rebellion of 1832?” the man asked.

 

“Who wants to know?” Enjolras asked, with a hint of defeat in his voice.

 

“Lieutenant Colonel William Barret Travis, of the Army of Texas.” The man said, offering his hand.

 

Sensing that Enjolras wouldn’t take it, Combeferre took it instead. “Uh…pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel. My name’s Combeferre, and this here is Enjolras…he’s the leader of our little group. That over there is Courfeyrac. That’s Joly and Bossuet, Musichetta, Feuilly and over there…Grantaire what are you doing?!”

 

Combeferre saw Grantaire at the bar, taking a tiny little glass and chugging it down his throat.

 

“I’m exploring the new world, my good man!” Grantaire slurred. He turned back to the bartender and said “Now explain to me again how this…ta-keel-a drink works its charms?!”

 

Combeferre rolled his eyes as he turned back to Travis. “Anyway, yes we were involved in that Rebellion.”

 

Travis looked at all of them intrigued. “So…you and your friends are in favor of a Republic?”

 

“Of course, Lieutenant Colonel! We feel it’s the best thing for the people.”

 

“Senor Combeferre…would you object to joining me at my table for a moment?” Travis gestured to his table.

 

“Not at all!” Combeferre replied. “I’ll be back.” He said to his friends.

 

One of the serving girls came to the group’s table and put down several mugs and a bottle. Seguin addressed them all. “This one’s on the house.”

 

“Merci, Captain!” Joly said.

 

Courfeyrac was too busy eyeing the outfit that the girl was wearing. “They certainly don’t make them like they do back in France!”

 

Enjolras grabbed a stool next to Grantaire. “What are you drinking, R?”

 

Grantaire was flabbergasted. “What?! What is this?! Apollo has come down to Earth to grace the ugliness with his presence?!”

 

“Don’t push your luck, ‘Taire.” Enjolras said, annoyed.

 

Grantaire looked at him confused. “Um…they say it’s a shot of tequila.”

 

Enjolras signaled the bartender. “What he’s drinking.”

 

When the bartender poured into Enjolras’s shot glass, Enjolras said to Grantaire “Now I want to make myself extremely clear, ‘Taire. We are on a new adventure, trying to start off on a clean slate. After this, I don’t want to hear anything more about your obsession over me, your determination to bring us down, your cynicism in general. As painful as it may seem, I want you to start sobering up. Then maybe perhaps, if you behave, I will accept you as part of the group. Do we have an understanding?”

 

Grantaire just stared at him. “Why Apollo…just the chance to share a drink with you is all I’ve ever wanted!”

 

And with that, the two clinked their glasses and downed their shots.

 

“Wow…” Feuilly said. “I never thought I’d see the day, that Enjolras and Grantaire are having a drink together…let alone the fact that Enjolras is not shouting at him.”

 

“Do you think perhaps he’s still not over France?” Joly asked.

 

“I’m sure he just needs to find something to take his mind off his old country. Right Courfeyrac?” Bossuet asked.

 

Courfeyrac was distracted by talking with the serving girl.

 

Musichetta rolled her eyes. “You can take Courfeyrac out of France, but you can’t take France out of Courfeyrac!”

 

Combeferre finally returned. His expression was lit with concern. “We’ll wait until we’re settled in, friends. Then we will talk.”

 

 

**!**

“We stepped into the middle of a Revolution and we didn’t even know it?!” Joly asked, as the group huddled in one of their rooms.

 

“Why were they so welcoming of us? For all they knew, we could’ve been the enemy…whoever that is!” Bossuet exclaimed.

 

“Alright, Combeferre, start from the beginning!” Enjolras said firmly.

 

Combeferre looked at his friend. Perhaps this event will bring back the Enjolras they all know.

 

“Well…to start off…when we first arrived in Texas, we were under the impression that we were still in American Territory. We’re not.”

 

“What?” Courfeyrac asked.

 

“We’re in Mexican territory. This is known as the Provence of Texas.” Combeferre continued.

 

“Would we get in trouble if we were here illegally?” Joly asked, becoming worried.

 

“Relax, Joly.” Combeferre said. “Seguin and Travis would’ve turned us in or thrown us out by now.”

 

“Anyway…” he continued. “When the Mexicans gained their independence from Spain, they formed a Federalist Government, cemented by the Constitution of 1824. This new government, granted any American who wished to, the right to land properties in Mexico, as long as they become Mexican citizens. So, a lot of Americans have been coming down here to Texas to do just that.

 

“However, a Mexican General by the name of Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, rose to power and became President-turned-Dictator. He revoked the Constitution and instilled a Centralist Government. In other words, we were lucky we weren’t caught and prosecuted by Mexican authorities.”

 

“But isn’t Seguin Mexican?” Feuilly asked.

 

“Yes, but he’s of a different mind than Santa Anna. Most of the people here in San Antonio feel the same way. They believe that Santa Anna is treating the people of Texas unfairly.”

 

“Just like a certain country I know?” Enjolras snorted cynically.

 

“Actually…maybe worse.” Combeferre said, causing everyone to look at him in confusion as he continued. “Some time ago, a Mister Stephen Austin had petitioned for Mexico to grant Texas Statehood. And he was arrested.”

 

“What?!” Bossuet asked, outraged. “He got arrested just for a petition?!”

 

“Exactly how the people of Texas reacted. Anyway…they decided enough was enough, and they took action. For roughly a few months now, this Provence has seen a political clash between the Mexicans, and the Texian rebels.”

 

“So why is Colonel Travis here?” Courfeyrac asked.

 

“You guys remember that Mission that Musichetta pointed out?” Combeferre asked. When they nodded, he explained “That mission…or the Alamo for short, is the Texian Army’s makeshift fort. They placed cannons, barracks, ammunition inside the Alamo.”

 

Enjolras stood up and walked in a circle with his hands behind his back. “Now what exactly did Travis want to talk to you about?” he asked.

 

Combeferre took a deep breath and took off his glasses to clean them. “Friends…Travis has asked us to enlist as volunteers and to help fight for the Republic of Texas.”

 

Enjolras stopped his pacing and looked directly at Combeferre. “What?” he asked.

 

“The fact of the matter is…” Combeferre continued. “that Travis, and some commander named Jim Bowie, are short on men. And there’s no reports confirming on when they’ll get reinforcements. But until such time, Travis has told me to tell all of you in confidentiality, that there are suspicions that Santa Anna is leading his entire army, all the way through Texas. And right here in San Antonio is his first stop.”

 

Grantaire stroked his chin. “Then why in hell don’t we just turn tail out of this place and regroup with other Texian rebels?!”

 

Everyone stared at him in confusion. That was the soberest thing he has said the whole time they’ve known him.

 

Combeferre put his glasses back on. “Well…the reason they put in so much effort to fortify the Alamo, is because it is the only active fort within hundreds of miles, that stands in the way of this Santa Anna, and the rest of Texas.”

 

Enjolras approached Combeferre. “And what about the people of Texas? Will they rise up and join us?”

 

“It may take longer than a few days for them to join us. But that’s because Texas is three times the size of France. However, if inspired, I’m sure they will come.”

 

Combeferre looked at the rest of the men and Musichetta. “But this Not a military command, friends. This is a plea for help. He’s asking for volunteers, not soldiers. We are not soldiers, but we have had experience in this kind of fighting. That’s why he’s asking us. We have the option to say no and leave town. This isn’t our fight. Where do we all stand with this?”

 

He then looked to Enjolras for an answer. Their leader took in a deep breath and said “Citizens…France may have turned their backs on us. But that does not mean that we should do the same to another world that needs our help. Texas and France are no different. They fight for rights against oppression. They clamor for a Republic. And that is exactly what our motivation is. If this Travis and this Bowie want us to help them fight, then I say, let us join in their crusade! Who will be strong and stand with me?!”

 

The rest of the men cheered. They had their Enjolras back!

 

Courfeyrac stood up and whispered in Combeferre’s ear. “What in the hell was in that tequila?!”

 

 

**FEBRUARY 16 th, 1836**

**THE ALAMO**

**½ MILE FROM SAN ANTONIO DE BEXAR**

Colonel Travis led Enjolras and Combeferre by horse from the town the next morning, to the old adobe mission that was referred to as The Alamo.

 

When they first approached the mission, they came across what Travis identified as the West Wall. It was a simple wall with several dents and loose bricks visible, extending a length of roughly 500ft.

 

Travis rounded the corner to the right and Combeferre and Enjolras followed suit. When they approached the South Wall, they came upon a lunette shaped fence.

 

“This is called a Sally Port.” Travis said. “We have two six-pounder cannons positioned here, to guard our South flank.”

 

The three of them dismounted their horses and walked up the ramp of the Sally Port. Travis made a salute to the sentry who called for the Main Gate to be opened.

 

When Enjolras and Combeferre entered in, their eyes widened with wonder.

 

It was like four walls of buildings surrounding an empty stretch of dirt and sand. In the middle of the plaza stood a ramp with two cannons pointed directly at them.

 

“Don’t worry, they’re not loaded!” A voice called behind them. They turned around to see a man in his mid-thirties approaching them.

 

“Ah! Enjolras, Combeferre, this is Captain Almeron Dickinson. He’s our chief artillery officer here in the garrison. He served as a defender in the Battle of Gonzalez, and as a General’s aide during the Siege of Bexar.”

 

“Siege? Was there a siege here recently?” Enjolras asked.

 

“Certainly. Before we swept in, this old tumbled down mission used to be controlled by the Mexicans and General Cos. But, after overwhelming the poor bastards, they surrendered and we kicked them out of this town.”

 

“But then…” Combeferre began. “If we already kicked them out, why would we still need to fortify this mission?”

 

“Because if there’s one thing I know about Santa Anna…” a low husky voice called out to their left. “…it’s that he does not let things go easily.”

 

Travis cleared his throat and said “Colonel Bowie. I’d like to present to you Mister Enjolras, and Mister Combeferre. I managed to persuade them and a few others to volunteer their services and join our ranks.”

 

He then turned to the two Frenchmen. “This is Colonel James Bowie. He and I are Co-Commanders of the garrison here. I lead the regulars, and he leads the militia. So, you and your men will report to him.”

 

Enjolras and Combeferre took turns in shaking Bowie and Dickinson’s hands.

 

“You boys have any fighting experience?” Bowie asked, coughing a couple of times to clear his throat.

 

“Yes, sir. We fought in a couple of Insurrections in Paris. 1830 and 1832 to be exact.” Enjolras answered.

 

“Good. Seeing as how you’re still alive, I take it you’re good with rifles.” Bowie asked.

 

“Yes sir.” Enjolras said.

 

“And…uh…how many men did you boys bring?”

 

“Well, myself, and Combeferre, we have five other men from our group.”

 

Dickinson’s smile faltered. “Oh…that’s all? We were kind of hoping you’d have maybe twenty or…a hundred.”

 

“Are things here that bad?” Combeferre asked.

 

“Ever since we chased Cos out of here, a lot of the volunteers didn’t see a need to stay around here anymore.” Dickinson answered.

 

“Which reminds me…” Travis said softly before looking around. “Major Bonham?!” He called out.

 

A young man no older than 29 came hustling to the group. “Sir?”

 

“Bonham, is your horse prepared?” Travis asked.

 

“Yes, sir. Let me just fetch him from the courtyard.” James Bonham saluted before running to the courtyard in behind the group.

 

“Oh, over here, if you’ll follow us…” Travis had Combeferre and Enjolras follow him. “Here we have the Chapel.” He said.

 

“Whoa…” Enjolras and Combeferre said in unison.

 

The Chapel of the _Misión San Antonio de Valero_ looked like it belonged to the ruins of Ancient Greece. There was no roof; the Catholics never completed it. The bricks look yellow and beige and sunken with age. The four sculptures stacked on top of each other and flanking the large wooden door looked endearing, and peaceful.

 

To the right of the chapel, was a wall of large logs standing up to form a large fence.

 

“Right over here…” Travis continued. “is the Palisade. Before the fence was put in, there was nothing between the South wall and the chapel. This is…unfortunately the best we could do on short notice.”

 

An older man, probably in his mid-40s heard Travis talking and walked towards the group. He was wearing a hunting outfit and a coonskin cap.

 

“We got some new folks to come and give ‘em hell?” The man asked.

 

“You bet, Davy.” Bowie said. “Misters Enjolras and Combeferre, this here is the legend of the frontier himself, the great bear killer Congressman David Crockett of Tennessee!”

 

“Bear Killer?!” Combeferre asked, shocked. “You mean you actually killed a bear?!”

 

Davy Crockett shrugged his shoulders. “I might’ve in my time. Now don’t ask me if it was before or during my time in Washington. Could never tell in between them elections!”

 

“How is the palisade coming along, Colonel Crockett?” Travis asked.

 

“Well…give it another hour or so, and it’ll be finer than a white-picket fence at your Aunt Susie’s house on the Bayou!” Crockett answered.

 

A minute later, James Bonham exited the courtyard on his horse and pulled up to Travis whom the latter handed him an envelope.

 

“Take this to Colonel Fannin. He should be stationed at Fort Defiance in Goliad. God speed!” Travis ordered.

 

Bonham saluted, and kicked his horse as he galloped his way out of the mission.

 

“So, Enjolras…” Travis turned to the two of them. “Why don’t you bring the rest of the men over here, and we’ll give them a quick little tour of the place, and show them where they’ll be stationed?”

 

Enjolras nodded and said “Sounds like a plan.”

 

 

And so, the rest of the Friends of the ABC had visited the Alamo and were immediately taken in with Travis, Bowie, Dickinson and Crockett.

 

“These seem like honorable kind of people.” Joly said. “I’ll be quite curious as to see what their opposition will be like.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Colonel Travis, Davy Crockett, and 180 more._

_Captain Dickinson, Jim Bowie, present and accounted for._

_Back in 1836, Houston said to Travis:_

_‘Get some volunteers and go fortify the Alamo.’_

_Well the men came from Texas, and from old Tennessee,_

_And they joined up with Travis just to fight for the right to be free.”_

**FEBRUARY 22 nd, 1836**

**SAN ANTONIO DE BEXAR, TEXAS**

Colonel Travis, Colonel Bowie, and Congressman Crockett had a map of the Alamo laid out on the table in Travis’s office inside the Mission. They were assigning the ABC Friends their posts.

 

“Colonel Bowie, as they are Volunteers and therefore, your responsibility, does it matter to you where these men will be stationed?” Travis asked.

 

“Nah, not one bit, Buck.” Bowie answered, in between coughs. Joly took a step back.

 

“Very well.” Travis said, before pointing to several spots on the map.

 

“As you men have seen, the palisade between the chapel and the South Wall is the most vulnerable…” he began.

 

“Well, now I wouldn’t say that anymore, Colonel.” Crockett spoke up. “In case you might’ve not taken a notice to, me and my boys are Tennesseans. I’ve yet to see the day where anyone of my men have missed a single shot. You just leave that bunch of sticks over there to me and my boys. I’m sure you’ll need more men to other posts.”

 

Travis nodded. “I appreciate the effort you’re putting in, Congressman Crockett.” He then proceeded to point again to the map. “That being said, our next weakest point of defense would have to be the North Wall. It’s protected by three cannons, but can easily be overpowered if not well-manned. I need the more skilled marksmen out of all of you to devote yourselves to that line of defense.”

 

Enjolras looked at his men and raised his hand to volunteer. Grantaire followed suit. “Do you permit it?” he asked Enjolras, who simply nodded.

 

“Good.” Travis continued. “We’ll need someone to assist Captain Dickinson with the artillery posts. Ideally, the Southwest Wall facing the village will be our primal concern. That’s where our largest cannon will be stationed: the 18-pounder.”

 

“I can help.” Combeferre said quickly. “I admit, if there’s no other step but to fight, I will fight. Yet I would prefer not to use a rifle again, if it can be helped.”

 

Travis looked at him for a moment before continuing. “We have two lines of defense on the East Wall, one by the cattle pen, and the other by the horse pen.”

 

Courfeyrac and Feuilly stepped in respectively.

 

“Then we’ll need someone to assist in the Sally Port on the South Wall.”

 

Joly hesitated a moment, before raising his hand to offer his help.

 

“What can I do?” Bossuet asked.

 

“As it turns out, we’ll need to gather as many supplies as we can. Not just ammunition, but provisions and water. There’s a well right next to the hospital. It will connect to the San Antonio River. I’ll need you to help Joe out with digging a new hole, as the well may be running dry soon.”

 

Bossuet looked over to the man standing behind Travis. He was of the same color, which raised confusion in Bossuet’s mind.

 

“Begging your pardon, Colonel. But…I volunteered to fight.”

 

Travis looked up at Bossuet confused as well. He then turned to Joly’s direction. “Did he allow for it?”

 

Joly looked at Bossuet then back to Travis, before Bossuet asked “Why would he need to allow for me to volunteer?”

 

Travis asked Joly directly. “Isn’t he your property?”

 

“Property?!” Bossuet asked, outraged, before pointing to Joe. “Is that man, your…slave?!”

 

Travis leaned back in his chair and said “Yes. Why?”

 

Combeferre quickly stepped in. “Lieutenant Colonel, Bossuet was born in France to middle-class people. He went to school with us. But he was never born a slave, sir.”

 

“Oh…” Travis said awkwardly. “My apologies, Mister de Maux.”

 

“Not accepted!” Bossuet said angrily. Joly pulled him back to the side.

 

“Bossuet, please calm down.”

“No! How dare he assume that I am your slave! I’m here with the same equal rights as you!” Bossuet hissed.

 

“Listen to me!” Joly said, grabbing both of Bossuet’s shoulders. “You are right. You are born free, you will live free, and you shall die free. That is your born right as a Frenchman. But you must remember, we are not in France anymore. We face a new country, with possibly new conflicts.”

 

“But that man is a slave! Is this not a country of free men?!” Bossuet insisted.

 

“He is right!” Enjolras added. “We are men that fight for the rights of everybody!”

 

“Whose side are you all really on?!” Courfeyrac asked of the three commanders.

 

Soon the room began to erupt with protests and arguments.

 

Suddenly, Jim Bowie pulled out a 12-inch Knife and jammed it into Travis’s table, where it laid lodged in, for the size it was. The Friends stopped their shouting and looked with shock at the knife.

 

“Now you all listen to me!” Bowie bellowed. “No one here said anything about there being a good side, or a bad side! When the Americans gained their independence, did they go marching around demanding to abolish slavery?! Hell no! They were too damn busy fighting for their lives from British tyrants. As for Travis and myself, yes, we do own slaves. Are we entirely proud of it? No. And God help me, if we do succeed with this rebellion, and we gain a Republic, you had better damn believe that Travis and I will do everything in our power to abolish slavery. But until such time, you had better get it in your damn heads that right now, it is not the time to cause a rebellion WITHIN the rebellion! I suggest, Mr. de Maux, that you take the moment and thank your lucky stars that nobody owns you, and start thinking about how you can help us so few men!”

 

Bossuet never took his eyes off the knife, but listened to every word its owner had said.

 

He looked up at Bowie and said “Yes sir…”

 

Travis took in a deep breath and said “Mr. de Maux, I am not ordering you to assist Joe with the well. I merely ask of it. If you do not feel up to such a task, I can assign you to a post.”

 

Bossuet sighed and held up his hand. “It doesn’t matter to me…I will help Joe. I guess having that right is enough for me.” He then looked at Joe. “But this man is no different than I am.”

 

“Please believe us when we say…” Travis said “That we had no part in starting slavery…”

 

“But you do have the power to abolish it?” Enjolras asked. “Are you not a lawyer, Colonel Travis?”

 

“I am.” Travis answered. “And I promise you all, and to Joe, that once we are in a Republic, I will make a petition to abolish slavery. Until then, I ask that we focus our energy and anger into fortifying this mission, making it as defensive as we possibly can.”

 

The Friends slowly nodded their heads one by one.

 

“Good.” Travis said. “Bossuet, when you’re done with helping Joe, you can station yourself along the West wall to any post that needs the help…” Bossuet nodded before Travis spoke again. “Oh, and one final thing. Are there any noncombatants in your party?”

 

Joly and Bossuet looked at each other and both said “Musichetta.”

 

“Other than that, no one else.” Enjolras said.

 

“Very well. Unless there’s anything to add, you are dismissed.”

 

 

**!**

“Mister Bossuet!”

 

Joe had caught up with Bossuet outside the officer’s quarters. “I wondered if I may have a word with you, sir.”

 

Bossuet sighed and patted Joe’s back. “No need to ask me. Legally, you may be a slave…but in my eyes, we’re the same. What’s on your mind?”

 

“Well, that’s just it, Mister Bossuet. I just wanted you to know…that there are no hard feelings from me toward Mister William, if that’s what angered you.” Joe said.

 

Bossuet took a deep exasperated sigh. “That’s not the point. It shouldn’t even be a talking issue.”

 

“Ah, but Mister William, he’s a right honorable fellow, he is! He took me in, sir. He and I have conversations, sir. He considers me like his companion-at-arms. He ain’t a bad man, Mister Bossuet.”

 

“But Joe, you should be…”

 

“I know, Mister Bossuet. But the truth is, the rest of the world ain’t so kind. They is some mean people out there, Mister Bossuet. Any other household, and I may have been hanged on sight. I know you mean well, Mister Bossuet. But I just wanted it known that there ain’t no hard feelings towards Mister Travis. As far as he is concerned, I’m only his slave on paper. I promise.”

 

Bossuet looked at Joe, and could see the sincerity in his eyes. He smiled and said “Well, I can see why he looks to you as a friend. You’re certainly honorable.”

 

And with that, the two shook hands.

 

 

**LATER THAT NIGHT...**

Feuilly, Courfeyrac and Grantaire were sitting around a fire-pit outside in a courtyard next to the inn.

 

Feuilly was taking a swig from a mug, before spitting it out in disgust. “Blech! Jesus, Grantaire! How can you get drunk on this tequila stuff?!”

 

“Very easily.” Grantaire answered.

 

Their conversation was interrupted by the approach of a young beautiful Mexican girl with long black hair and tan skin.

 

“ _Buenos Noches_ , Gentlemen _._ ” She said.

 

Courfeyrac perked up and asked “You speak English?”

 

The girl smiled and said “Yes. I wondered if I may have a word with you.”

 

“A word? My dear…” Courfeyrac began before pulling out his little book. “ _Senorita_ , you can have a conversation with us!”

 

“I think that’s what she meant, Courf!” Feuilly whispered.

 

“ _Senors_ , I was wondering…forgive me for being impertinent. But I wish if you could tell me…who is…”

 

“Ah, I’ve not yet the honor of course! I am Senor de Courfeyrac!”

 

“I thought you didn’t include the ‘de’?” Feuilly asked.

 

“If the _senorita_ wants a ‘de’, she can have a ‘de’!”

 

Feuilly looked at him confused, before Grantaire leaned in and whispered in his ear. Feuilly looked up disgusted at Courfeyrac. “You have some issues, friend!”

 

“Actually…Senor Courfeyrac, I was wondering if you could tell me the name of your companion, the one with…the spectacles?”

 

“Ouch!” Grantaire exclaimed. “Courfeyrac just got taken to Court!”

 

Courfeyrac barely flinched. “Of course, Senorita. His name is Combeferre.”

 

The girl smiled again. “A curious name, from a curious group I suppose!”

 

“Yes. Do you wish to speak with him?” Feuilly asked.

 

“No, no. I was just curious as to his name. _Muchos Gracias!_ ” The girl said, before walking away.

 

“Now, wait a minute, purdy lady!” Grantaire called out. Feuilly and Courfeyrac were shocked by his sudden Western accent. “Might we inquire as to the name of the beautiful Tejana that has inquired of our dear friend, the Guide?”

 

“Oh…my name is Teresita. Teresita de Rodriguez.” She blushed before running off.

 

Courfeyrac chuckled. “Quite an interesting breed, these Mexicans.”

 

 

**!**

“Enjolras, we cannot call for treason within the militia! Bowie and Travis are having enough trouble trying to keep the regulars and volunteers from killing each other!” Combeferre insisted.

 

“Treason? These men are already treasonous to begin with!” Enjolras said, pointing to Bossuet, who stood up.

 

“Look, Enjolras. Combeferre is right. We must look at the bigger picture here!”

 

Joly paced back and forth, finishing Bossuet’s thought. “Here’s what we know so far. One, when Santa Anna took over, he enforced a lot of harsher laws onto Mexico, and the Provence of Texas. On the other hand, one of the laws is the abolishment of slavery. For all intents and purposes, that alone should make us leave this town, and join the Mexicans on their side. Right?”

 

The other three nodded slowly.

 

“Two, Travis has caused some difficulties which helped escalate the conflict between Texas and Mexico. Now it can’t obviously be from the issues of slavery alone, can it? Travis did not exactly gloat that he owned a slave.”

 

“He has a point.” Bossuet said.

 

“Three, if Mexican Law abolished slavery, then why are some of the native Mexicans within this region fighting on our side?”

 

“Precisely!” Combeferre added. “Obviously, these new laws that Santa Anna is enforcing, have to be so harsh to the point where the citizens feel there was no other choice but to come to arms. Now, I had an audience with Travis with regards to Stephen Austin. The reason he was arrested, is because he was suspected of influencing the country. The Mexican Authorities deemed him dangerous on an assumption, and arrested him without a trial. And another thing, remember how when we crossed the border into Texas, the Mexican sentries searched our wagon for weapons and ammunition?”

 

“Yes…I confirmed with Seguin. He said Mexican law prohibits firearms. I’m sure America would be fuming at the idea, since the right to bear arms is within their Constitution.” Enjolras remarked.

 

“But Texas is no longer under a constitutional government. That is what these people are fighting for in the long run. They are fighting for rights. Just like we were.” Combeferre commented.

 

“That being said…” Bossuet said. “I put in my say that right now, we do not have the luxury of demanding the abolishment of slavery so long as Mexico has their hands around our necks.”

 

“Exactly.” Combeferre continued. “In order to resolve this issue, it would be better for us to fight to sustain a constitutional government.”

 

Enjolras looked at Bossuet. “Does it not trouble you that the abolishment of slavery is not permanent?”

 

Bossuet shrugged his shoulders. “What can we do? We’ll have to help them whether or not they own slaves. The fact of the matter is, they are not an Army. They are a bunch of willing friends and neighbors. They are the people, and fighting for the people is what we enlisted to do.”

 

“I will request an audience with Colonel Travis first thing tomorrow morning.” Enjolras declared. “Perhaps he can enlighten us all on what the plans are for this Republic they risk so much for.”

 

“Well nothing else can be decided upon without a goodnight’s sleep.” Combeferre said.

 

The four men agreed, and adjourned to their beds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“With his banners a-dancing in the dawn’s golden light,_

_Santa Anna came prancing on a horse that was black as the night;_

_Sent an officer to tell Travis to surrender._

_Travis answered with a shell and a rousing rebel yell!_

_Santa Anna turned scarlet! ‘Play DeGuello’ he roared._

_I will show them No Quarter! Everyone will be put to the sword!”_

**FEBRURARY 23 rd, 1836**

**SAN ANTONIO DE BEXAR**

Combeferre awoke softly to the sound of a church bell. He smiled to himself, as he never took the time to appreciate the sounds of church bells on a Sunday morning.

 

That’s when it him with realization. Today was not Sunday, it was Tuesday.

 

His door burst open. It was Enjolras.

 

“Colonel Travis wants us! At the San Fernando Church! Now!” he said.

 

 

**!**

Enjolras and Combeferre rushed to the church where Travis was standing. He urged them to follow him to the bell tower.

 

When they climbed up, they met with Private Daniel Cloud who pointed towards the hills on the horizon.

 

“I saw them, Colonel! Thousands of them! It’s the Mexicans! They’re here!”

 

“That’s impossible!” Travis objected. “The Mexicans would have had to cover over three-hundred miles of dead winter before getting here. There’s no way they could’ve gotten here so soon.”

 

“Colonel, I saw what I saw!” Cloud insisted.

 

Travis picked up his telescope and looked towards Cloud’s direction.

 

When the three returned to ground level, they were met by two more Texians.

 

“Sutherland. Smith! I need you two to go out and scout the area. Confirm Cloud’s report of the Mexican forces.” Travis ordered.

 

“Yes sir!” John Sutherland saluted before running to his horse, followed by Colorado Smith.

 

The two riders pulled the reigns on their horses and sped out of the town and into the horizon.

 

“Colonel Travis, what do you want us to do, sir?” Combeferre asked.

 

“Gather your men and dependents. I still find it impossible that Santa Anna could move that fast through Mexico in harsh winter conditions. But I’m not taking chances. Gather what you can, and retreat into the Alamo. There’s not enough of us to defend the town.” Travis ordered.

 

Enjolras and Combeferre looked at each other, before running off to the Inn.

 

 

**!**

Courfeyrac and Feuilly practically stumbled out of the door amidst dozens of people running about.

 

Bossuet, Joly and Musichetta came up from behind, followed by Combeferre, Enjolras and Grantaire.

 

“What’s going on?” Joly asked.

 

“Colonel Travis wants us to move into the Alamo. Today!” Enjolras said.

 

“Already?” Feuilly asked confused.

 

“Those guys gave a report of Santa Anna’s troops. They’re here already!” Combeferre said.

 

Grantaire looked around. “Maybe we can barricade the town, buy them some time?” he suggested.

 

“There isn’t enough time. And there’s not enough men to maintain the town! Colonel Travis wants all defendants and their dependents to fall back to the Alamo, and assume our posts there, now!” Enjolras ordered.

 

Deciding not to argue another word, the men and Musichetta ran back to their rooms and packed their bags. Enjolras returned with his covered wagon, and Courfeyrac and Combeferre got their horses from the stable.

 

 

**!**

The sun was just about peaking over the mountains by the time the Friends of the ABC had entered the Alamo. They parked their wagon and their horses over by the horse pen to the left of the Chapel.

 

Feuilly looked around and could see all kinds of activity.

 

Crockett’s men were reinforcing the palisade with more logs to stand up as a fence.

 

Some of Dickinson’s men were hoisting up a cannon onto a platform on top of the chapel.

 

Enjolras hopped out of the wagon and scanned the interior for any signs of the commanders. Joly walked away for a few minutes, before hustling back to the group.

 

“Enjolras!” Joly called out. “I see Colonel Bowie there. He doesn’t look too good.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“That cough of his. It’s certainly not a drinking cough. I thought I saw blood on his handkerchief.” Joly grimaced at the thought.

 

“Well, we report to him regardless. Where is he?” Enjolras asked.

 

“Over by the 18-pounder.” Joly said.

 

“Where do the noncombatants go?” Musichetta asked. That’s when a white woman with a little baby in her arms approached her.

 

“Oh, hi! You speak English?” the young woman said.

 

“Yes!” Musichetta responded.

 

“Oh, thank goodness! That’ll be easier for me! I’m Mrs. Dickinson. I believe you may have met my husband. Anyway, the noncombatants and I are located in the Chapel. It won’t be very comfortable, but Colonel Travis said it’s supposed to be the safest place in the whole mission.”

 

Musichetta thanked her and kissed Joly and Bossuet goodbye before joining Mrs. Dickinson into the chapel.

 

Enjolras was walking over to Colonel Bowie when his attention came to a Mexican family that climbed through one of the windows along the main walls. It was a man, woman, four little children; one daughter and three boys.

 

“But Papa, why can I not fight?!” The eldest son pleaded.

 

“Even if you were of age, these people are our own! You’d wish to kill that of your own kind? You wish to aim a rifle at your Uncle?!” the Father declared.

 

“But they march for Santa Anna!” the son objected.

 

“No. We do not fight our people. We fight Santa Anna only. You will stay with the noncombatants and look after your Mother.” The man said.

 

“But then why do you fight?!” The son pleaded.

 

“Not now, son. Please!” The father demanded. And with that, the family hustled off into the Chapel.

 

Captain Dickinson exited the chapel and approached this man. “Esparza! I need you to make an ordinance on the artillery posts when you get the chance.”

 

Esparza saluted before hustling off to the farthest artillery position.

 

Enjolras and Combeferre walked with Dickinson. “Captain, can I ask you a question?”

 

“Sure, son.” Dickinson said.

 

“That man was saying something about aiming a rifle at his son’s uncle?”

 

Dickinson stopped and took a deep breath. He turned to the two Friends and said “That was Private Gregorio Esparza, of the Texian Volunteer Army. He…” Dickinson had a little trouble with his words. “He has a brother…Francisco, who marches for Santa Anna. It may be hard to comprehend, what it’s like to have a brother positioned in opposite camps of a battleground.”

 

Enjolras’s mind flashed back to four years ago, back when the rebels were facing the cannons attack on the barricade.

 

_The discharge took place with the terrifying rattle of grape-shot. This terrible rebound had produced two dead and three wounded._

_“Let us prevent the second discharge!” said Enjolras._

_And, lowering his rifle, he took aim at the Captain of the Gun, who, at that moment, was bearing down the breach of his gun and rectifying and definitely fixing its pointing._

_The Captain of the Piece was a handsome Sergeant of Artillery, very young, blond, with a very gentle face, and the intelligent air peculiar to that predestined and redoubtable weapon which, by dint of perfecting itself in horror, must end in killing war._

_Combeferre, who was standing beside Enjolras, scrutinized this young man._

_“What a pity!” said Combeferre. “What hideous things these butcheries are! Come, when there are no more kings, there will be no more war. Enjolras, you are taking aim at that sergeant but you are not looking at him! Fancy, he is a charming young man. He is intrepid; it is evident that he is thoughtful. Those young artillery-men are very well educated; he has a father, a mother, a family; he is probably in love; he is no more than five-and-twenty at the most; he might be your brother.”_

_“He is.” Said Enjolras._

_“Yes,” replied Combeferre. “he is mine too. Well, let us not kill him.”_

_“Let me alone. It must be done.”_

_And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras’s marble cheek. At the same moment, he pressed the trigger of his rifle._

“Enjolras?!” Combeferre said aloud.

 

Enjolras was brought back into the present time. He looked at Dickinson and said. “I can only imagine what Esparza must be going through…”

 

Combeferre patted Enjolras on the shoulder before directing him back to report to Colonel Bowie.

 

“Colonel? We’re here to report, sir!” Combeferre said.

 

Bowie coughed a couple of times before turning to face the two. “Relax boys. Even if the Mexicans arrive, they’re not gonna attack right away. All the same, have your friends standby on the South Wall.”

 

**!**

By the time midday had approached, Sutherland and Smith returned. They have confirmed Cloud’s reports of the Mexican troops. And it was unlike anything they’ve seen in their entire lives.

 

At least 1,500 troops were marching, accompanied by horse-drawn artillery, 30 or 40 Calvary men, carrying Mexican flags.

 

In front of them was the man who deemed himself _El Supremo_ , Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. The people of Mexico cheered for him and chanted his name _“Viva Santa Anna!”_. The people of Texas feared him and fled for their lives at the mere mention of his name.

 

Why was this man a tyrant? Why were men and women afraid of him? The Friends of the ABC had yet to find out.

 

 

**!**

Travis was in his office, scribbling away on several pieces of paper. He had Sutherland, Smith, and John Johnson waiting by the entryway to his office.

 

After placing the letters in envelopes, he gave the first two to Sutherland and Smith. “Take this to Gonzalez.” He said to them, before giving the third letter to Johnson. “Get this to Colonel Fannin in Goliad. God speed, gentlemen!”

 

Feuilly burst into the office. “Pardon me, Colonel. You need to see this!” he exclaimed.

 

Travis followed Feuilly towards the Southwest corner by the 18-pounder cannon, facing the village.

 

The sight in front of them was frightening.

 

The entire village of San Antonio de Bexar was filled with uniformed men, marching around. Mexican language was being shouted in the distance. The tricolored flag of Green, white and red was flown for all the eye to see.

 

The Texian rebels had a flag of their own. But instead of an eagle embroidered on the white section of the Mexican flag, their flag had “ **1824** ” written in the middle. It was their symbol for the Constitution of 1824.

 

Colonel Travis joined up with Combeferre, Enjolras, Feuilly, Colonel Bowie, Captain Dickinson, and Davy Crockett.

 

Combeferre picked up his telescope and looked closely at the village before handing it over to Enjolras. “Take a look at the church!” he said.

 

Enjolras looked through the telescope and looked closely at the watch tower. There was a soldier climbing up, and fiddling with the flagpole.

 

“Ah…” Enjolras said. “They fly a red flag. Are they Republican too?”

 

Travis yanked the telescope out of Enjolras’s hands to take a look for himself. “Damn!” he said.

 

“What is the matter, Colonel?” Combeferre asked. “Where we come from, the red flag symbolized Liberty or death. We flew…”

 

“Mister Combeferre,” Travis began. “I’m afraid you and your friends will have to learn that this is not France. Your views of symbols for liberty are not the same! Take a look at their flag again!”

 

Combeferre took back the telescope and examined the flag more closely. When he saw it, his heart dropped. In the middle of the red flag was a black cross and a skull.

 

“That flag that flies high for all to see, is their signal for no quarter. No mercy. In other words, no prisoners!”

 

Enjolras took the telescope next. “Without a trial?!” he asked, outraged.

 

Bowie walked over to the two of them. “Might as well know the whole truth of what you’re getting yourselves into. Santa Anna considers himself to be the Napoleon of the West.”

 

Enjolras flinched at the idea.

 

“Anyway, when he targets a village, he takes no prisoners. If there’s a group of rebels around, he won’t let them draw sticks to see who gets to live and who gets to die! No, that would spoil his fun!”

 

“You mean…” Combeferre said timidly.

 

“They are all stood up against a wall and shot. On the spot.” Bowie said.

 

“What?!” Enjolras shouted.

 

“I’ve heard enough!” Travis declared. And without missing a beat, Travis picked up the torch that was placed on the edge of the wall, and let it touch the 18-pounder’s fuse.

 

_BOOM!_

The cannon fired and in the distance they could see a building top burst on the roof from the cannon hit.

 

“What in the hell were you thinking, Travis!” Bowie bellowed angrily. “We could’ve damn negotiated with them!” He then coughed more violently into his handkerchief.

 

“We are here for cessation, Colonel Bowie. We are not holding up to beg for our lives!”

 

Suddenly, without warning, the Texians heard four cannon shots from the distance.

 

“Take Cover!” Dickinson shouted.

The men crouched down behind the walls when suddenly, four explosions shook the inside of the mission. Then, there was all quiet again.

 

“Any damage?” Travis asked.

 

“No sir.” Dickinson answered.

 

Bowie grumbled as he yanked his hat off his head. “Goddamnit, Travis! I’m always having to go clean up after your mess!”

 

He then turned his attention to the Friends. “Which one of you is the most persuasive?”

 

Immediately, all of the Friends pointed at Combeferre.

 

“Alright. Major Jameson!” Bowie called out.

 

Major Green Jameson hustled over to Bowie. “Get two horses ready. You and Combeferre ride over and see if we can try and simmer down this situation!”

 

 

**!**

 

Combeferre hoisted himself onto his horse. He was consoled by Enjolras. “Just remember, Guide, you were able to save five lives back in Paris with your words. Use your words again today. It may make a difference!”

 

Combeferre shook hands with Enjolras before galloping out of the mission with Jameson, who was carrying a white flag of truce.

 

The two rode out of the south side of the Mission, and halted to a bridge.

 

 

**!**

General Manuel Castrillion entered General Santa Anna’s headquarters, where the leader was drinking a cup of tea while looking over a map of the mission.

 

“Your Excellency,” Castrillion began. “The Texians have sent out two riders to request a truce.” He said before handing a letter to Santa Anna.

 

The man in his mid-50s yanked the letter from Castrillion’s hands and read it for a moment, before crumpling it up and tossing it away. “How dare this Bowie consider himself my equal! I ought to have my men climb their walls this very minute just for that insult!”

 

“Excellency,” another Mexican official, Juan Almonte spoke up. “Perhaps this would be a opportune moment for a Siege. We’ve reports of the Alamo sending out couriers for reinforcements. Suppose…we were to allow all of the rebels to reinforce them. We can eradicate them all at the same time.”

 

Santa Anna stroked his chin. “Very well. Sam Houston will no doubt reinforce the rebels. We can crush the rebellion in one fell swoop. Humor those two who request a truce. But you have your orders nonetheless.”

 

 

**!**

 

Combeferre and Major Jameson waited patiently for a response.

 

About a few minutes later, Almonte and Colonel Jose Bartes rode over to meet them opposite the bridge, and saluted.

 

Combeferre tipped his hat out of respect. “English?” he asked.

 

Bartes nodded before stepping off of his horse.

 

“Officers, I would like to offer my sincerest apologies on behalf of Colonel James Bowie and the rest of the garrison, for the cannon’s premature discharge. I’m afraid one of the defenders had grown with panic at the sight of the red flag. The Colonel would come here and apologize himself, but he is taken ill.

 

“But he does wish for a truce, and so do I. I personally believe that this is not the way to go about resolving a conflict. Blood does not need to be shed. The People of Texas wish for an understanding to be made. They feel threatened and violated. Surely, the responsibility of leadership must include that somewhere for his Excellency?”

 

Bartes scoffed before taking out a scroll and reading it aloud.

 

“I reply to you, according to the order of His Excellency, that the Mexican army cannot come to terms under any conditions with rebellious foreigners to whom there is no recourse left, if they wish to save their lives, than to place themselves immediately at the disposal of the Supreme Government from whom alone they may expect clemency after some considerations."

 

Combeferre’s face fell. “And if we don’t?”

 

Almonte answered. “We will be obliged to give our buglers the order to blow _El DeGuello!_.

 

Combeferre saw Jameson’s eyes widen with anger as he reared his horse to ride back to the mission.

 

He turned around to see Bartes and Almonte already riding back to the town. Taking a deep breath, he turned his horse around to return to the Alamo.

 

 

**!**

“Well?” Bowie asked.

 

“Surrender at his discretion, otherwise, the buglers will blow the _El DeGuello_. What does that mean?” Combeferre asked as he stepped off of his horse.

 

“No mercy.” Pvt. Esparza said. “Cut their throats.”

 

Bowie grumbled. Congressman Crockett walked up. “Well dip me and fry me! You mean to tell me this Santana feller expects us to just throw our hands up in the air and just step out?!” he asked.

 

“Where’s Colonel Travis?” Combeferre asked.

 

“He’s gone and sent one of his men to try the same thing you did.”

 

Enjolras heard this, and angrily paced over to where Travis was talking with Dickinson.

 

“Colonel, do you doubt my philosophical friend?!” Enjolras asked.

 

“Being sent by Bowie, how could I have expected the results to go any other way?” Travis responded.

 

“So you do doubt our Guide?!” Enjolras insisted.

 

“Mister Enjolras, now is not the time to…”

 

“Colonel, I feel I should tell you that Combeferre is a very valuable asset, to any faction that is in need of support! His persuasiveness gets people to rise. He even saved lives with only his words! Now the fact that he returned with an unsatisfactory answer obviously means that Combeferre has faced a challenge!”

 

An hour had passed, before Travis’s man returned by horse and delivered the exact same news that Combeferre and Jameson brought.

 

Unconditional surrender, or else, no quarter.

 

“Well, there you have it Travis.” Bowie said amidst coughing. “There’s no other way around it. We just can’t get the dictator to listen to reason!”

 

“Then we are of one mind?” Travis asked. Bowie nodded.

 

“Mister Combeferre?” Travis called. Combeferre walked over to him. “You have the letter?”

 

When Combeferre produced the letter, Travis took the other letter, looked over in Captain Dickinson’s direction. When he offered the letters to him, Dickinson smiled and walked over to the 18-pounder cannon.

 

Dickinson picked up a cannon ball, and wrapped the two letters around it before shoving it into the cannon and having the artillerymen shoving it in.

 

“What are you doing?” Feuilly asked with curiosity.

 

“We’re sending them their response back!” Bowie said.

 

“Fire!” Captain Dickinson shouted.

 

**!**

After the second cannon shot from the fort, Santa Anna shouted to his men “Surround the garrison! The traitors will regret this!”


	3. Chapter 3

After the parleys had dispersed, night had fallen.

 

Musichetta entered the interior of the chapel. She was surprised to find it roofless. In front of her there was a ramp to three cannons. She suddenly heard a little girl crying. To her right, there was a tiny room where several women and children were getting settled in.

 

She walked inside and took off her shawl, and approached Mrs. Dickinson, who was sitting on a bench holding her little baby girl.

 

“Can I help, Mrs. Dickinson?” she asked. “I absolutely love children!”

 

“Oh of course!” The mother answered. “And please, call me Susanna!” She said before gently handing the little girl over to Musichetta.

 

“Her name is Angelina.” Susanna said, as she was wiping the sweat from her brow.

 

“Oh, she’s adorable!” Musichetta said as she was holding Angelina in her lap.

 

Susanna laughed. “Everyone seems to think so.”

 

“So, how long have you and your husband been married?” Musichetta asked.

 

“Since 1829. I was only fifteen at the time.” Mrs. Dickinson blushed. “Is your husband stationed here?”

 

Musichetta blushed harder. “I’m afraid I’m not married.” And then she paused on what she considered Joly and Bossuet in a way that perhaps Susanna could understand.

 

“Let’s just say…I have two suitors that are both here.” She smiled.

 

“Oh, I see! Does it bother either of them if they’re both stationed here?”

 

Musichetta shrugged her shoulders before answering “Not really.”

 

“What are their names?” Susanna asked.

 

“Joly and Bossuet.”

 

Across the room, Teresita de Rodriguez picked up her head and studied the newcomer.

 

 

 

 

 

**!**

Major Robert Evans, the Garrison’s ordinance officer, was distributing rifles to the Friends.

 

Enjolras picked up his rifle, and held it in awe.

 

Combeferre was less enthusiastic about his.

 

“I never thought I would see the day…” Enjolras began. “When I would be issued a rifle from an army officer.”

 

He looked over in Combeferre’s direction. “What is the matter, Guide?”

 

“I wasn’t able to convince the Mexicans…and now, here we are about to fight them.” Combeferre responded.

 

Enjolras sighed and patted Combeferre’s shoulder. “I know. But this time, things will be different. We’re not on a lonely barricade backed into a corner. We have trained military men and ordinary people who believe in fighting for a Republic!”

 

“Enjolras, we ARE cornered.” Combeferre said. When Enjolras looked for an answer, the Guide adjusted his glasses and motioned for him to follow him into the chapel.

 

 

**!**

When the two reached the ramp by the three cannons, Combeferre pointed to the horizon.

 

“Those aren’t just infantrymen tents pitched over there.” He said, before handing Enjolras his telescope. “Look to the left of them.”

 

Enjolras did so, peering through the telescope. When he lowered the telescope, Combeferre saw the concern on his face.

 

“During the time I tried to talk peace with them, they’ve surrounded half of the Mission with artillery batteries!”

 

“What?!” Enjolras asked, outraged. “They didn’t wait for a resolution?!”

 

“Enjolras, I told you what Santa Anna’s demand was. Unconditional Surrender, at his discretion. Otherwise, everyone will be put to the sword!” Combeferre said, with bitterness in his tone.

 

“Well…” Enjolras began. “Yes, but this is more than just a little skirmish in the city streets, Guide! According to the Texians here, there have been battles elsewhere all over Texas, and parts of Mexico! Anahuac, Gonzalez, the Siege of Bexar! Texas has already risen!”

 

“But look around you again, Enjolras.” Combeferre pleaded. “Even if by some miracle, the people rise to our cause…” he began. “Or to speak plainly, if reinforcements come, how will they be able to get past the Mexicans?”

 

Enjolras was about to answer when a bugle in the distance was being heard.

 

 

**!**

Courfeyrac hiked up the South Wall’s ramp and stood alongside Colonel Travis and Davy Crockett and Juan Sequin.

 

“Is that their bugle call?” Courfeyrac asked, listening to the buglers in the distance.

 

“The very one.” Seguin answered.

 

Bossuet and Joly joined up next to them. Feuilly followed shortly afterwards and remarked “It’s a rather eerie kind of bugle call. It’s kind of…haunting, to say the least.”

 

“Being that their translation is ‘slit throat’, courtesy of the Spanish and the Moors, I’m not in the least bit surprised.” Seguin scoffed.

 

Joly scratched his head. “But the sun’s just about setting. Why are they blowing the call now?”

 

Travis looked at the Friends. “I’d suggest you all take cover posthaste, lest you want to find out the answer the hard way.”

 

The Friends stood there, confused, before they heard a shout in the distance “ _Fuego!_ ”, followed by thunderous _BOOMS!_ Coming from the artillery cannons surrounding the fort.

 

 

**!**

Enjolras and Grantaire rushed to the North Wall to their posts, and kept an eye on the troops’ movements, if any.

 

Combeferre helped to load the 18-pounder cannon, while Captain Dickinson gave the order to fire.

 

Feuilly and Courfeyrac dodged a couple of times as a few Mexican cannon balls barely missed their heads!

 

Bossuet and Joly rolled a cannon forward at their post. Joly looked at his friend and said “Nice to have some of these on our sides for once!” And with that, Joly lit the fuse and fired a cannon.

 

 

**FEBRUARY 24 th, 1836**

**DAY TWO**

By dawn’s early light, the artillery has stopped. All of the defenders stopped in their tracks, to listen for any activities outside the Mission.

 

Combeferre and Enjolras hustled over to the palisade where Crockett was stationed.

 

“See anything?” Enjolras asked.

 

Crockett shook his head. “No, they’re not budging an inch, unless it’s to move their batteries forward.”

 

Enjolras was confused. “You mean, they’re not attacking right away?” Davy Crockett shrugged his shoulders.

 

Combeferre’s attention was switched to distant coughing coming from the cattle pen. He cautiously walked over there to find Bowie hunched over.

 

“Colonel? Are you alright?”

 

Bowie spat out a sliver of blood before answering. “You know what the ironic part out of it all is?”

 

Combeferre cleaned his glasses. “I’m sorry?”

 

“My wife…and my kids.” Bowie said, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a locket, that showed his wife.

 

Combeferre took it and examined it. “She’s Mexican?”

 

“I know what you might be thinking. No, I did not marry her for land or money. Buck Travis over there seems to think otherwise, all because we can’t co-command!”

 

“Oh…” Combeferre said, looking at the locket again. “She is of Mexican aristocracy?”

 

“Was.” Bowie corrected, amidst coughs. “The damn plague took her…and my two kids.”

 

Combeferre lowered his head. “I’m so sorry, Colonel.”

 

“And the ironic part out of it all…is I sent them to Coahuila, Mexico, to escape the plague! And now…” Bowie coughed more violently. “I believe I’m about to join them!” He bent over and coughed so harshly, that he fell forward to the ground.

 

 

**!**

 

“It’s not the plague…” Dr. Amos Pollard corrected, as he was looking over Bowie’s convulsing body on the cot inside a room by the South Wall. “It’s tuberculosis.”

 

Combeferre stood in the corner, studying the doctor’s moves. Travis stood by as well. Bowie raised his finger at him. “Buck…I can’t have my boys see me like this…I want you…to take full command!” Bowie coughed.

 

Travis silently nodded. “Mister Combeferre, may I have a word with you?”

 

Combeferre nodded as he followed Travis into his office.

 

“I will not lie to you, Mister Combeferre. Unless we get reinforcements soon, things will look grim for us.” Travis said plainly.

 

“Enjolras is our leader.” Combeferre said quickly. “Why are you not bringing _him_ to light on the situation?”

 

“Because he’s too hot tempered with me right now, and too righteous to get his head in gear at the moment. I’ve noticed last night how you were trying to talk some sense into him.

 

“One thing that he and I can agree on, is that you are very persuasive. I never doubted that when you went to try and talk sense into the Mexican Army. This is why I am talking to you, rather than Mister Enjolras.”

 

Travis sat down at his desk, and finished writing up a document, and shaking powder on it to dry up the ink. “I thought perhaps…I could read this to you, and get a second opinion on it?”

 

Combeferre nodded, and the Colonel cleared his throat and read the letter.

 

 

 

 

 

_“To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World:_

_Fellow citizens & compatriots—I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna—I have sustained a continual Bombardment & cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man. _

_The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken—I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, & our flag still waves proudly from the walls._

_I shall never surrender or retreat._

_Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism & everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid, with all dispatch—The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. _

_If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country_

_—Victory or Death._

_William Barret Travis_

_Lt. Col. comdt_

_P.S. The Lord is on our side—When the enemy appeared in sight we had not three bushels of corn—We have since found in deserted houses 80 or 90 bushels & got into the walls 20 or 30 head of Beeves._

_Travis”_

Combeferre’s eyes began to water. He had to remove his glasses and wipe his eyes.

 

“Colonel…” he began. “If that does not move the people of Texas, I don’t know what will.”

 

Travis turned to the Guide. “How well do you know the lands of Texas?”

 

Combeferre shook his head. “I know very little of it if not at all. We’ve only arrived in Texas in the beginning of February. Why?”

 

Travis shrugged his shoulders. “Just wondering. That is all for now, son.”

 

Combeferre nodded and left the office.

 

 

**!**

No sooner had he opened the door, then he had accidentally bumped into someone.

 

“Oh, I am sorry!” he said, before turning to see the beautiful young girl standing back up in front of him.  


“Oh, no, _Senor_ , it was my fault. I did not look where I was going!” Teresita said.

 

“Well, no harm done.” Combeferre smiled. Teresita was taken aback…this was the first time she had spoken to him face to face.

 

“You are one of those men of France?” she asked.

 

“Yes. My name’s Combeferre. Yours?” he offered his hand.

 

She took a curtsy and said “Teresita de Rodriquez! My brother serves with Private Esparza here.” She gave him her hand, which he kissed tenderly, causing her to blush. “I could not help my curiosity, Senor Combeferre. I found your group to be quite different from everyone around us.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Why do you stay here to fight with the Americans, and my people? How is it that you’ve come all the way here from France? What do you hope to accomplish here? Do you have lands granted to you?”

 

Combeferre took in a deep breath. He threw his rifle over his shoulder and motioned for Teresita to walk with him. “We’ve only just arrived here by chance. We have no lands to call our own, no riches to inherit. We have nothing to gain from this revolution.”

 

“And yet you fight?” Teresita asked. “Why is that?”

 

“Believe me, _Senorita_ , I wish it would be that we did not fight. But at the same time, these men I travel with, they are more like brothers to me rather than just friends. I would stay with them to my dying breath. Even if that means having to fire a weapon.”

 

“You do not wish to fight?” she asked.

 

“If it were up to me, I would march right there into San Antonio de Bexar, sit down with the Dictator, and refuse to leave until negotiations were established.”

 

Teresita turned away from Combeferre, causing the latter to stop talking and approach her. “Have I said something to offend you, _Senorita_?” he asked.

 

“Santa Anna considers himself above negotiations. And anyone that would dare to persist, would be arrested. Do you know where I come from?” she asked.

 

When Combeferre shook his head, Teresita answered “I come from the village of Zacatecas, Mexico. Last year, they made the mistake of openly rebelling against the tyrant. When victory was in Santa Anna’s favor, he…he gave the army permission to…gave permission to…” she covered her mouth and turned away again.

 

Combeferre produced a handkerchief and gave it to her. When she took it, she wiped her tears away and continued. “He gave his army permission to loot the village…and rape the women.”

 

“Good God!” he gasped. “Were you there?”

 

“No. My parents had us leave at the first sign of danger…I never saw them again.”

 

“I am sorry.” Combeferre replied. Teresita nodded in sadness before walking away.

 

Enjolras approached from behind. “Who was that, Guide?” he asked.

 

Combeferre turned around. “Enjolras, there’s more to all of this than slavery and land. That beautiful young woman had told me that these rebels are fighting not only for rights, but for their virtues…and lives at this point.”

 

 

**!**

Later that night, Combeferre sat with the rest of the Friends by the palisade and told them what he had learned about Santa Anna’s barbarous rule.

 

“Every time I hear something new about this Santa Anna, I feel more disgusted than ever!” Joly said.

 

“In a way…it kind of makes the King seem a little tolerable.” Courfeyrac added.

 

“Yes…because at least when things were bad, the King turned away. But this bastard, just opens up the door and allows his men to unleash hell. Who does he think he is?!” Enjolras demanded.

 

“The Napoleon of the West?” Grantaire said.

 

“Worse. I think this man may just very well be in a class of his own.” Feuilly suggested.

 

“Whatever he is, he is no man at all. Not by what any of _us_ stand for.” Combeferre insisted.

 

Just then, Davy Crockett approached the group.

 

“I sure as hell hate to breakup your little pow wow here, but we seem to have some activity over by the River San Antone.” He said.

 

Crockett and the Friends grabbed their rifles and went up the ramp to the wall facing the San Antonio River.

 

“Shouldn’t you bring your men with you, Mr. Crockett?” Bossuet asked.

 

“David.” Crockett insisted. “And this was actually a simple request made by Travis. He asked to see how your marksmanship is, given how you’ve seen combat before.”

 

Enjolras nodded. “Okay, Friends. Take your stances.”

 

They knelt down by the wall and kept their eyes peeled on the river.

 

“This wall isn’t very high up…” Grantaire noted. “Any skilled man with a slingshot could give me a black eye if I were to stand up.”

 

Major Jameson approached and shrugged his shoulders. “Best I could do on short notice. Hopefully we won’t have to lean too far out to aim our rifles.”

 

“I see them!” Feuilly exclaimed, pointing to the footbridge by the river.

 

Sure enough, a platoon of Mexican Infantrymen began marching across the bridge.

 

“Is this an attack?” Joly asked.

 

“They’re too calm to try an attack…” Courfeyrac observed. Combeferre tightened the grip of his rifle.

 

“I hear tell that Santa Anna is a very patient…or a very manipulating man. He likes to wear out his prey. Get them hyped up for the moment. Then when he exhausts you, you drop your guard, and BAM! He gets you!” Crockett snapped his fingers. “That’s what I _heard_ anyway.”

 

Grantaire gulped. “I’d hate to find out the hard way.”

 

All of a sudden, a gunshot rang out. Enjolras looked through his telescope and saw a Mexican soldier fall to the ground. He turned around and saw who fired.

 

It was Combeferre.

 

 

**FEBRUARY 25 th, 1836**

**DAY THREE**

There was a knock on Travis’s door. He walked up from his desk to open it. It was Enjolras.

 

“Ah…Mister Enjolras. What can I do for you?”

 

“Well…it is two things. May I come in?” Enjolras asked.

 

“Certainly. I hope you won’t mind if I continue with my work? I need to get couriers out every chance I get.” Travis returned to his desk.

 

Enjolras nodded and sat down in a chair next to Travis’s bed.

 

“Colonel Travis…um…first of all…I just wanted to apologize.”

 

Travis stopped writing and turned to face Enjolras as he continued. “I was obviously brought up in a different world than you. Our main concern was that all men were to be created equal. That included men of color…” Enjolras said, before looking in the Slave Joe’s direction.

 

“Anyway…I’m sure we both have an understanding that things are different here than they were back in France. Bossuet went to school with us. He is like a brother to us. So naturally, you and I would have our disagreements over what is right and what is not when we discuss the equality of men.

 

“But there’s one thing that I do agree upon with you. And that is, though we may not live in a world of equality, I would rather that than to live in a world ruled by tyrants like the one I heard nothing but distain about. Now, if we are to come out of this fight victorious, you and I may eventually come to another fight about people like Bossuet and Joe. But that I believe is for another day. That being said, and we’ve all talked about this: We are all with you and your fight for Texas every step of the way.”

 

Travis let it sink in for a moment before putting his feathered quill into the little ink bottle. “That was well said, Enjolras. I’m beginning to see why your comrades have elected you as their leader. You have a strong temper, but your intentions are just as strong.”

 

“Thank you.” Enjolras said.

 

“You said there were two things. What is the second?” Travis asked.

 

“Yes…I had wanted to talk to you about…Combeferre.” Enjolras began.

 

“Ah yes. I heard about the little skirmish last night. Colonel Crockett said he was surprised as much as you before he took his rifle and killed the second soldier.”

 

“Yes, Congressman Crockett is not a man without aim. I’ll grant you that. But you see…the fact that Combeferre had killed that first soldier on the very first folly is what concerns me in a way.”

 

“How so?” Travis asked.

 

“Well…during our rebellion four years ago, I was so sure he deliberately missed his shots while aiming at the French National Guard.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. He is not a killer, Colonel. He fights with words. He was what we called the Philosophy of the Revolution, whereas I was the logic. My point is…last night, I saw a new side of Combeferre. One that I’ve never seen before, nor am I sure I like.”

 

Travis nodded. “Well, what can I do about it?”

 

Before Enjolras could answer, Pvt. Daniel Cloud burst into the office. “Pardon me Colonel! But the Mexicans are advancing!”

 

 

**!**

Nearby the San Antonio River, just off of the Southwest corner of the Alamo, two hundred soldiers hustled in groups of twenty, and began forming lines facing the South Wall.

 

In between them and the fort, were a bunch of old abandoned shacks.

 

When Colonel Travis and Captain Dickinson ran up the ramp to examine the scene, they immediately saw what was happening.

 

The Friends climbed up with them, followed by Crockett, Cloud, and some of the Tennesseans.

 

“This isn’t an attack.” Travis said.

 

“It’s not?” Joly asked.

 

“They want those shacks!” Seguin explained. “If they get a hold of those shacks, they’ll set up their artillery there. Our cannons will be useless against them!”

 

“Not if I can help it!” Crockett exclaimed before picking up his rifle and taking fire.

 

“Fire at will, gentlemen!” Travis shouted before taking his shotgun from Joe and taking aim.

 

Enjolras dispersed his Friends to their spots. “Take aim! Fire!”

 

He and Combeferre fired first. While they were reloading, Courfeyrac and Feuilly took their stance and fired next.

 

 _“Fuego!”_ They heard from the distance. Suddenly, all lines of Mexican soldiers discharged their rifles, followed by two hundred small puffs of smoke.

 

“Get Down!” Enjolras shouted.

 

Joly ducked for cover. The strafe of the bullets struck the wall, throwing a bit of gravel into his face. “Ow! I’ve been hit!” He exclaimed.

 

Bossuet rolled his eyes. “Get up!” He said.

 

“The first shack!” Dickinson shouted. Pvt. Esparza, Seguin and a few others rolled the 18-pounder in the direction of the shack. “Fire!”

 

And with a loud boom, the shack exploded from the cannon fire.

 

Travis fired again. This time, a Mexican soldier fell. Combeferre fired next, causing a second soldier to yank his head back before falling to the ground. Crockett fired, causing the third to clutch his stomach before falling forward.

 

Another three soldiers fell during the next two hours before the Mexicans finally gave up.

 

After the Texians calmed down after their riotous cheer, Crockett approached the Friends.

 

“We chased them off for now. But they may come back tomorrow to try that again. What do you boys say we go outside and get some fresh air?”

 

 

**!**

The sun sank, and the shacks were crumbling to the ground in flames. Crockett and the Friends had only hours ago, torched the shacks rendering them useless to Mexican artillery.

 

Combeferre went to the water barrel over by the well, and took a ladle full to drink. When he was done, Juan Seguin approached him.

 

“Colonel Travis wants to see us.” Seguin said.

 

“Us?” Combeferre asked. Seguin nodded, and the two of them entered Travis’s office.

 

“You wanted to see us?”

 

“Yes.” Travis said. “I’ve no word yet from Houston…whether he’s coming or not coming. Either way, he needs to be told of our situation.”

 

Combeferre’s heart began to sink.

 

“I need the two of you to ride out to him, to give him the message and to return with a reply.”

 

Seguin and Combeferre looked at each other.

 

“Colonel…” Seguin began. “It may be easier since I am Mexican myself, and I know this land better than anyone.” He then turned to Combeferre. “But this young lad here…”

 

“…has been elected by the rest of his comrades as the best candidate. We need the people of Texas to be persuaded. And right now, Mister Combeferre is the most persuasive. He’s read my letter. He has the right to read it to others now.”

 

“But Colonel…these are more than my friends. They are like my brothers!” Combeferre protested.

 

“You don’t understand.” Colonel Travis said. “This isn’t a request. It is an order. We need help. You of all people understand that.”

 

Combeferre clenched his fists. “Yes sir. I understand.” He saluted.

 

 

**!**

“Why? Why did you have to do that?!” Combeferre demanded from Enjolras as the two were inside the chapel.

 

“I didn’t do anything. Travis had asked me, and all I said was that you were the only one out of all of us who was the best with words!”

 

“But you saw me last night, Enjolras. I am no longer the guide who fights with words. Last night I killed a man! That makes me no longer any different than the rest of us! Now we are all in this together! Why didn’t you at least fight for my say?!”

 

“I don’t know.” Enjolras said.

 

“Don’t lie to me, Enjolras! You still believe I wouldn’t last long in a fight! You think I can’t hold my own here!”

 

“I never said that you can’t hold your own, Guide.” Enjolras said, his voice shaking.

 

“Then why are you forcing me out of here?! Why are you denying me my place by your side, where it’s always been?!” Combeferre insisted.

 

“I’m not trying to _force_ you out of anywhere! I was right when I said that Travis had asked about your abilities to persuade people. You really are the best that we have. All of Texas needs to listen to your words, and come to our aid as soon as they can! No one but you can do that. Believe me, if I had it my way, I would have you standing by my side as we face the enemy head on! Just like we used to.”

 

“When we used to…” Combeferre interjected. “I had a choice in the matter. I chose to stay.”

 

“But now you are being _ordered_ to accompany Seguin!” Enjolras shot back angrily. Combeferre was taken aback by the abruptness.

 

“Things are different here, Guide. We don’t have the luxury of living the life of a Republic here now that we are among military men! The Commanding Officer of this garrison has issued an order and we need to obey it!”

 

Combeferre could not believe the words coming out of the Leader’s mouth. The Enjolras he knew would’ve fought to keep Combeferre here. Now Enjolras is taking orders from a Military Officer.

 

He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. “At least give me the satisfaction of accepting that I _will_ return after I deliver the message! And that nothing you do can stop me from letting that happen!”

 

Enjolras slowly nodded. “Very well. Just make sure you stay safe.”

 

 

**!**

Combeferre stayed in the embrace of his Friends for five minutes while Seguin was preparing the second horse for him.

 

“When you get back…” Feuilly said. “Tell us what the rest of Texas is like! We never got to explore it before!”

 

“I will.” Combeferre said.

 

“And also, if there are any pretty ladies looking for a charming man…” Courfeyrac began.

 

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to collect their handkerchiefs for you.”

 

“And be sure to cover yourself good during the nights! The last thing we need is for you to succumb to anything while you’re out there!” Joly insisted.

 

“Of course, Joly. You have my word.”

 

He then turned to Enjolras, who embraced him one more time. “Give them your best words, Guide.”

 

Combeferre smiled and replied “Give those soldiers your best shots, Leader.”

 

Just as Combeferre was about to hop onto his horse, Teresita hustled out of the chapel.

 

“Wait!” she pleaded. “Before you go…” she said, before fishing out something from her shirt. It was a rosary bead. “May God protect you.” She placed it over Combeferre’s head, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

 

 

**!**

Combeferre and Seguin hopped on their horses, and bolted out of the South Wall entrance, and rode as fast as they could. Not a single Mexican shot was heard.

 

Crockett leaned on the wall of the palisade next to Enjolras. “You know…” Crockett said. “It could take a few days ride before they get to Houston alone.”

 

Enjolras held his pistol in his hand and sighed. “I hope so.” He said.


	4. Chapter 4

_One Hundred and Eighty-Five holding back Five Thousand!_

_Five days, six days, eight days, ten; Travis held and held again!_

_Then he sent for replacements for his wounded and lame._

_But the troops that were coming, never came! Never Came! Never Came!_

**FEBRUARY 26** **th** **, 1936**

**DAY FOUR**

**Fort Defiance**

**Goliad, Provence of Texas**

**90 Miles Southeast of San Antonio de Bexar**

Colonel James Fannin crumpled up the letter that was handed to him and threw it on the ground at Major James Bonham's feet.

"Out of all the idiotic tactics Travis could get himself into…I thought we were supposed to destroy the Alamo, and remove the cannons! Don't they know the chances against them?!" The Colonel barked.

Bonham didn't flinch. "But Colonel…" he said. "You have an army of near 400 men! With your aid, the Alamo can hold for a month at best!"

"Yeah, but what happens after that? You think the Mexicans will give up on the thirty-first day? Throw their greasy hands up in the air and say ' _Dios Mio!_ They're invincible!?'"

"Colonel!" Bonham insisted. "The longer we sit here and debate the issue, the higher the chances of Santa Anna launching an attack! Risky move or not, Travis and Bowie need help!"

Fannin groaned. "I always wondered if this damned revolution will be the death of me. I think it just might be."

Then he got up from his chair and turned to his Aide. "Rally the men, George. We're hauling ass and reinforcing that damned church!"

George saluted.

An hour later, Fannin and his force of 320 men, along with four cannons, emerged from their Fort, and proceeded on their march to the Alamo.

**FEBRUARY 27** **th** **, 1836**

**DAY FIVE**

**The Alamo, San Antonio de Bexar**

Teresita walked up the ramp at the back of the chapel, and scanned the horizon. She looked around and could only see tents and artillery. No indication to familiar faces.

She was shortly joined by her brother, Bernardo.

"No sign of him?" Her brother asked.

Teresita shook her head. "Why was _he_ sent with Captain Seguin? He is not Mexican, and could easily be captured and killed." She asked.

Bernardo shrugged his shoulders. "Colonel Travis believes that he is capable of persuading the people to come to our aid. And perhaps Seguin could cover for him if they are stopped."

Teresita looked at her brother. "I just wish we had a way of knowing of whether or not they made it to friendly territory. I hate this sense of not knowing…"

Bernardo placed his rifle against the wheel of one of the 12-pounder cannons. "Dear sister, I ought to ask you. What is it about this man that you find so intriguing?"

Teresita played with her shawl as she and her brother walked back down the ramp. "I do not know. That first day he arrived here in San Antone, I…I felt something."

"Like what?" Bernardo asked.

"Well…when Zacatecas was devastated…nothing in the world made sense anymore. I felt like there was no point to anything, when everything I knew was taken away from me. You were all I had to go on. And…when you and your men defeated General Cos, I felt relieved. But I wasn't convinced."

"Convinced of what?"

"I wasn't sure if this revolution would succeed. I became worried for us, dear brother. I became worried that what happened at Zacatecas would happen to us here. Santa Anna was present at both places.

"And then…as if by some sort of a sign, I saw him enter that cantina for the first time, and I had this feeling. Like this sense…that maybe, with his words, and with his gentleness, and pursuit of peace, perhaps maybe this conflict would come to a resolution. Where is he?!"

**WASHINGTON-ON-THE-BRAZOS**

**170 Miles East of San Antonio de Bexar**

"…if this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible, & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country. Victory or Death, William Barret Travis."

Combeferre finished speaking and folded up the letter he had just read out loud. He was standing in front of a group of middle-aged men, mostly Texians and Americans.

They were rendered speechless, not only by Travis's words, but by Combeferre's delivery of said words.

The silence was broken by the squeaking of chair.

General Sam Houston stood up from his chair and walked to the spot where Combeferre was standing. The latter stood to the side.

"Gentlemen. It was a risky and near-stupid move for Travis and Bowie to fortify that old adobe church. Their best bet was to destroy the establishment, and to regroup with us where we could set up better defensive tactics." Houston addressed the group.

"However, the words that Travis wrote. They're more than what's written on a piece of parchment. They are exactly the kind that are thought up by the character of what we are here to fight for. Travis is willing to die for the sake of his country. That is exactly the kind of patriotism that won us the United States to begin with! If those words haven't moved you, I don't know what will."

The men cheered as Houston continued.

"That being said, I will lead an army, and recruit volunteers, willing men, whatever I can get. But we cannot march to the Alamo until we here declare our independence from Mexico."

Combeferre and Seguin looked at each other as their hearts dropped.

"But sir…" Combeferre began.

"If we are to survive as a sovereign nation, we must be legally recognized as one. Otherwise we will forever be seen as a large group of rebels that may gain no support at all! Once a Declaration has been issued, then I will move with my men to reinforce the Alamo. It's the best I can do."

The Guide adjusted his glasses. "What do I tell Colonel Travis, sir?"

Houston looked at him. "Nothing. You and Seguin are staying here."

"What?!" Seguin asked, flabbergasted.

"Sir!" Combeferre pleaded. "We gave our word that we would return!"

"That's an order, not a suggestion!" Houston demanded.

Combeferre could feel his heart plummet to the ground.

**FEBRUARY 28** **th** **, 1836**

**DAY SIX**

**Gonzalez, Texas**

**80 Miles East of San Antonio de Bexar**

Alamo Courier Albert Martin was pacing back and forth near his horse. He had only a couple of days before, delivered one of Travis's pleas for help in San Antonio.

He looked to his left and saw thirty men riding their horses towards him. They slowed to a halt.

"I was beginning to wonder if y'all would show!" Martin said.

The group's leader, Lieutenant George C. Kimbell, pointed towards the back. "Sorry, we had a slight change of plans over at King's Ranch!"

On Kimbell's cue, a young boy no more than fifteen rode up front. "My Pa's got my eight brothers and sisters to look after! I volunteered to take his place!"

Martin looked at little William King, youngest of the volunteers. "Looks like Little People know when Little People Fight!" He turned back to Kimbell. "How many does that make?"

Kimbell sighed and said "Thirty-Two." Before wiping his forehead.

One Texian held up a white flag. It had a cannon painted on it, with a star on top, and the words " _Come and Take It_!" written on the bottom. "Thirty-Two is better than nothing, sir!"

Kimbell and Martin looked at each other before hopping onto their horses. "Well, maybe we can make a difference nonetheless. Let's go relieve the Alamo, boys!"

The Thirty-two men cheered as they began to gallop away towards San Antonio.

**FEBRUARY 29** **th** **, 1836**

**DAY SEVEN**

**Fort Defiance, Goliad**

"You mean to tell me that your army had barely advanced a day's march before turning tail?!" Bonham asked angrily to the frustrated Fannin.

"I don't know what else to tell you, Bonham."

"What the hell happened, Colonel?!"

"Oh, I don't know! Perhaps it was broken wagons that slowed us down? Or maybe our lack of horses? And the second source of transportation being oxen running off in the middle of the night? Or better yet, perhaps it was the reports that Mexican forces were moving to intercept us? Take your pick!" Fannin barked.

Bonham made his salute before storming out of the office, leaving Fannin to down a glass of whiskey.

**MARCH 1** **st** **, 1836**

**DAY EIGHT**

**The Alamo**

Courfeyrac leaned against the eighteen-pounder cannon. It was his turn to keep watch alongside the village.

He was soon accompanied by Grantaire.

"How's the few weeks of staying sober going for you, R?" Courfeyrac asked.

Grantaire snorted. "Can we start with a less complicated question?"

 _Fair enough_ , Courfeyrac thought. "Alright. How's Enjolras coping without his Guide?"

"How are _any_ of us coping without him?" Grantaire added.

"Well, I can't argue with you there. It's been five days. None of us know how large the Provence of Texas is. It could take Combeferre a week or two before he reaches this General Houston alone."

"RIDERS COMING IN!" Feuilly shouted.

The Friends and some of the Texians gathered to the wall, to see a small group of horses galloping towards the Alamo.

"Hold your Fire!" Travis ordered. "They're on our side!"

The Texians began to cheer as the Thirty-two men of Gonzalez entered the mission. Lt. Kimbell got off his horse to report to Travis.

"Lieutenant George Kimbell of the Texian Gonzalez Rangers reporting for duty sir!" he saluted.

Travis returned the salute before Kimbell and Cpt. Dickinson embraced, being former business partners together.

"Any word from Fannin?" Travis asked.

Kimbell's face dropped. "He's not here?! I just saw him a day or two ago! Last I heard, he was supposed to be here ahead of us!"

The defenders felt disheartened. Thirty-two men could barely make a difference. But what choice did they have. Besides, who knows what dangers they had to go through to get to the garrison. So they thanked the thirty-two all the same.

**MARCH 2** **nd** **, 1836**

**DAY NINE**

**Washington-On-The-Brazos**

… _We, therefore, the Delegates, with plenary powers, of the People of Texas, in solemn Convention assembled, appealing to a candid world for the necessities of our condition, do hereby resolve and DECLARE that our political connection with the Mexican nation has forever ended, and that the People of Texas do now constitute a FREE, SOVEREIGN, AND INDEPENDENT REPUBLIC, and are fully invested with all the rights and attributes which properly belong to independent States; and, conscious of the rectitude of our intentions, we fearlessly and confidently commit the issue to the decision of the Supreme Arbiter of the destinies of nations!_

After presenting the declaration, the delegates of Texas began to form a line to sign the document. Combeferre was asked to sign as well.

"I am just a courier sir. I'm not a delegate."

One of the delegates responded. "We'd still like you to be a part of it. We're all in this together."

Combeferre looked at the document before taking his glasses off to clean them. "Well, in any case, I will sign it in the name of my friends in San Antonio."

So he got in line to sign the declaration.

When he was handed the quill to sign his name, his heart suddenly started beating faster.

In all of the years that he's fought with his friends in the name of a Republic, none of them have ever gotten so far as to sign an official document officially declaring themselves in a Republic. Oh how he wished that his Friends were here to see this, to be a part of this…

…to be aware that this is happening in the first place.

After the Declaration has been signed, Houston called for his men to mount their horses and prepare for a march.

"Are we going straight to the Alamo, sir?" Combeferre asked.

"No. We need more men." Houston replied.

"But sir!"

"Look around you, son." Houston pointed to the men. "Santa Anna has thousands upon thousands of men surrounding the Mission. We got at least 130 men. You really think we'd be able to make a difference if we rushed to San Antonio right now?!"

Houston locked eyes with Combeferre and said "If we risk these men we have right now, the Declaration will have been in vain. The Republic will crumble, and Texas will forever be at the mercy of Santa Anna!

"I know they are your friends, son. I have friends too. We all have friends, and brothers and many more, cooped up in that old church! And I know that it would mean the world to them if we were to come to their aid with all due speed! But believe me. We need more men, otherwise it'll be a suicide mission!"

Combeferre lowered his hat. He was on the verge of tears. He had promised his friends that he would return as soon as he could. The longer he would be away, the more worried he would become for their sake.

**MARCH 3** **rd** **, 1836**

**DAY TEN**

**The Alamo**

"So you're saying he's not coming at all?!" Travis asked bewildered to Bonham while sitting in the former's office.

"When I got there, they were unpacking everything. Fannin said it was put to a vote as to whether or not they should even continue. Naturally, the majority voted against proceeding. How in the hell Fannin became a Commanding Officer is beyond me. Their position is untenable!" Bonham said.

Travis banged his fist on the table. Bonham took that as a signal to leave the office.

After sitting in silence for another few minutes, Travis took out the pen and parchment.

He began writing one letter.

" _I shall have to fight the enemy on his own terms, yet I am ready to do it, and if my countrymen do not rally to my relief, I am determined to perish in the defense of this place, and my bones shall reproach my country for her neglect. With 500 men more, I will drive General Sesma beyond the Rio Grande, and I will visit vengeance on the enemy fighting against us. Let the government declare them public enemies, otherwise she is acting a suicidal part. I shall treat them as such, unless I have superior orders to the contrary._

_My respects to all friends, confusion to all enemies. God Bless you."_

He stopped for a moment, before looking at a picture frame on his desk of his little son, Charlie.

He put his first letter to the side and picked up another piece of paper.

It was addressed to his friend, and caretaker of his son, David Ayers.

" _Take care of my little boy. If the country should be saved, I may make for him a splendid fortune; but if the country be lost and I should perish, he will have nothing but the proud recollection that he is the son of a man who died for his country._

_William Barrett Travis."_

**MARCH 4** **th** **, 1836**

**DAY ELEVEN**

**San Antonio de Bexar**

**Santa Anna's Headquarters**

The General had entered the dining room of his residence, where all of his officers were waiting.

"Be seated, gentlemen." He said.

The officers took their seats as Santa Anna took his. As his servant placed the tea tray on the table, Santa Anna leaned forward and said

"We must consider making a plan to attack the fort."

The officers looked at each other. Some showed agreement. Others showed concern.

One who showed concern was General Castrillion.

"Your Excellency, how do you wish to attack the fort?" he asked.

"Our troops will scale the walls. Why do you think the ladders are being built?!" The leader asked in response.

"Ah, but Excellency, we're scheduled to receive two 12-pounder cannons on the 7th! With them added to our artillery, we would be able to demolish the Alamo's outer walls, and therefore, extinguish the rebels of any threats."

That's what Castrillion said. He was really talking for the sake of his troops.

After much further discussion and debate, Santa Anna decided to wait another day.

 

For the defenders, it may make a difference.


	5. Chapter 5

_Indian Scouts with squirrel guns; men with muzzle loaders_

_Stood together heel and toe to defend the Alamo_

" _You may ne'er see your loved ones" Travis told them that day._

" _Those who want to can leave now; those who fight to the death, let 'em stay!"_

_In the sand, he drew a line, with his army saber._

_Out of a hundred-eighty-five, every soldier crossed the line!_

_Every musket is ready, every hand holds a sword!_

_Just a small band of soldiers standing tall in the eyes of the Lord…_

**MARCH 5** **th** **, 1836**

**DAY TWELVE**

**The Alamo**

Colonel Jim Bowie, still on his cot, was being carried out by Courfeyrac, Bossuet, Davy Crockett and Grantaire. They were taking him out into the middle of the plaza, where everyone else, men, women and children were standing.

Word had gotten out that Colonel Fannin, with his force of 400, which could've made a difference, was not coming after all. Morale had been devastated. The Friends were beginning to lose hope, not to mention the constant worry over their comrade, Combeferre, who was still out God knows where, trying to rally troops.

Enjolras however, knew exactly what he was doing. He was the one who insisted that Combeferre go with Seguin. Not only to help spread word of the situation, but to also save the Guide's life. Enjolras wanted his best friend to live to fight in other ways. That's why he pulled Combeferre out of the way of those three bayonets that were aimed at him back at the Paris Barricade.

Feuilly found himself in comradery with some of the Mexican rebels. Just like him, they came from poor backgrounds, but seek to find better lives, in spite of Santa Anna's high taxes. So, he was quick to find peace with these men.

Joly decided it would be a waste of energy to have to worry about constantly getting diseases, since the risks was practically all around him. Not only with Bowie, but with the type of food being served inside the mission. After being cooped up for twelve days, he learned to just get used to his conditions.

Bossuet and Joe became good friends. Even though Bossuet was never bound by contract or chain, he always offered Joe a helping hand in his duties. Bossuet felt an obligation to a man of his same race. But that never steered him away from fighting alongside his Friends, as he is still seen as one of them.

Courfeyrac began to think back to the old days, before the Paris Uprising, back to when he and his friends used to hang around in the Café Musain, and just talk about life, and women. Sometimes, he would think back to his times he spent with those they've lost: Bahorel and Prouvaire.

He and Bahorel had met and became fast friends after competing in an arm wrestling match. The competition was futile, as Bahorel came out victorious in a record breaking three seconds.

And Prouvaire was, in a way, the third point of a triangle that was that of him, Combeferre, and Joly. Joly and Combeferre were studying medicine; Combeferre and Prouvaire were more of a peaceful mind. Prouvaire was more so into poetry and studying literature.

So, it was nearly too much of a loss, when the National Guard stormed the barricades, bayonetted Bahorel, and kidnapped Prouvaire. The flower he had in his hair fell out, and Courfeyrac kept it with him ever since. He can't ever look at it without seeing the image of Prouvaire lined up against a wall and shot by a firing squad.

And Grantaire was each day becoming a new man. The lack of alcohol, though irritating, proved himself to be more at ease with everyone, especially Enjolras. Now he was no longer cynical, or obsessed with Enjolras. Believe it or not, he was actually becoming one with the Texas Revolution.

**!**

The Friends stood alongside Musichetta, Crockett, Dickinson, Susanna and her child, Teresita and her brother Bernardo, The Esparzas, Majors Bonham & Jameson, Danny Cloud, Lt. Kimbell, William King and Jim Bowie. They waited patiently as Travis emerged from his office, and stood in front of the chapel to address the garrison.

"I know you've all guessed by now that Colonel Fannin will not be coming to our aid. There's no beating about the bush about that. Only help we received is that of the men from Gonzalez. I applaud their bravery.

"But as for any other reinforcements…in spite of my pleas for help, I sincerely do not believe, that we will get anymore. And if they do come, I highly doubt that they will come before Santa Anna attacks.

"I've seen the Mexicans build ladders in the town. Scaling ladders. They intend to take the fort. And going by the red flag that waves high above their heads, you can all guess the outcome of the impending attack. They outnumber us forty to one.

"There is no way that this fort could survive an attack at this point. I will stay at my post, and die defending it to the last breath. None of you need to feel obligated. You've done more than what should've been asked of you just by being here, knowing the odds against us."

Enjolras and his Friends all looked at each other. None of this fazed them. They've had the same situation in front of them four years ago, when they learned that the people would not support them.

But this was different. As far as they knew, the people did rise, if Combeferre had anything to do with it. It's just a matter of whether or not they would've reached the Alamo in time.

Travis continued.

"I know some of you have questioned as to why we were cooped up here, taking Santa Anna's harassment. Some of you believed it would've been easier to destroy this church and to regroup with larger forces up north. But the reason I will not leave here, is because I intend to delay Santa Anna as long as I can, and if possible, make it an uneasy task for him to advance on Texas. We are the only known fort that stands in his way of hundreds of miles of unprotected settlements…full of people who may not be able to protect themselves. Once this fort falls, Texas is in critical danger.

"So, let Houston and the others raise men if they haven't already. Let them rally the men up north, and from the United States. I will die well, knowing that at the very least, I've not only bought them time, but I've also weakened the enemy however I could.

"That does not have to be the same for any of you. The majority inside this fort are made up of Volunteers. Therefore, I cannot force any of you to stay here against your will…" Travis said before taking his saber out of his sheath. "…but I can leave the choice to you."

Then Travis walked over to the South Wall, dug his saber into the dirt, and dragged it all the way across until it reached the wall to the horse pen.

"Let those of you who wish to stay with me, and fight in the name of independence, please cross this line and stand with me." Travis said, having put his saber back in its sheath.

Enjolras walked across almost immediately. Grantaire crossed next, followed by Courfeyrac, Joly, Feuilly and Bossuet. Enjolras turned to Travis. "If Combeferre were here, he would've told you that we will share your fate." Then he offered his hand for Travis to shake. Travis shook it proudly.

Davy Crockett crossed next, followed by Dickinson, Bonham, Esparza, Cloud, and Jameson.

"Damnit, boys!" Bowie coughed. "Somebody carry me across!" he demanded. Four volunteers went over and carried his cot over across the line.

In another minute, nearly all of the inhabitants of the garrison had crossed the line.

Travis exhaled a deep breath.

**!**

The Friends gathered by the palisade with Crockett, his friend Micajah Autry, and a bagpiper named MacGregor. They huddled around the campfire.

"Mind if I ask you something, David?" Feuilly asked.

"Sure thing, son." Crockett said.

"You come from Tennessee. You were a Congressman. You have no personal connections with Texas. And yet here you are, ready to sell your life dearly. May I ask why?"

The Tennessean took off his coonskin cap and smoothed his black hair. "I don't suppose it's anything personal. It's just in my character. And I'm sure it's in your character too, son. If my death leads to something bigger than myself, I will gladly go out with a bang."

Enjolras nodded. "We had hoped for something bigger than ourselves. When we started the Uprising, we hoped for a new world. A world full of republics and no kings. We failed, and at first, we thought there would be no hope ever again. Then we came out here, and we knew nothing of this place, of the revolution. And yet we chose to stay. I too will gladly die if it makes a difference for a better tomorrow."

Crockett patted him on the shoulder. Then he reached into his knapsack and pulled out a violin. "Say, MacGregor. Whaddya say we replace their _DeGuello_ with a tune of our own?"

MacGregor nodded and got out his bagpipes. The two of them began playing a song.

Teresita and a few others gathered around. They began humming the tune in their heads before they began singing.

" _A time to be reaping; a time to be sewing;_

_The Green Leaves of Summer are calling me home!_

_It was good to be young then, in the Season of Plenty,_

_When the catfish were jumping as high as the sky!_

_A time to be living, a time to be loving,_

_A time to be courting a girl of your own!_

_T'was so good to be young then, to be close to the Earth,_

_And to stand by your wife at the moment of birth._

_A time to be reaping; a time to be sewing;_

_The Green Leaves of Summer are calling me home!_

_It was good to be young then, with the sweet smell of apples;_

_And the Owl in the pine-tree awakens his eye._

_A time just for planting; a time just for plowing;_

_A time just for living; a place for to die!_

_T'was so good to be young then, to be close to the Earth'_

_Now the Green Leaves of Summer are calling me home…_

… _now the Green Leaves of Summer are calling me home._

**!**

"Mister Bossuet?" Travis called out from his office.

Bossuet hustled inside, where the Colonel and his slave were sitting.

"As you know, Mexican law prohibits slavery. Therefore, when they see you and Joe, they won't come after you. You two will be given leniency. But to be on the safe side, I want you to remember this phrase: _¡Soy negro, no dispare!_ " Travis said.

"What does that mean, Mister William?" Joe asked.

"It means 'don't shoot! I am black!'." Travis responded.

"But Mister William, what if them Mexicans take us back to Mexico with them?!" Joe asked. "I know I'd be a free man if I was in Mexico, but I don't wanna go there, I don't, sir!"

"I already thought ahead of that, Joe." Travis said, before reaching down to pull out his satchel. He opened it up and pulled out a couple of documents.

"This is something I promised Mrs. Travis." The Colonel said. "These are your papers. They are your freedom."

Joe's heart dropped. "You're a free man, Joe." Travis said.

Bossuet smiled. "Thank you, Mister William!" Joe exclaimed.

Travis then turned to Bossuet. "Since you're technically not a slave, I took my free time to forge a document for you. In case you go wandering off in some state that's pro-slavery, I don't want anyone claiming you as their property." He said, before handing a paper to Bossuet. "I'm basically breaking every rule in the book, since I happen to be a lawyer, but given the circumstances, I'm sure no one will object…"

Bossuet looked at his paper, then at Joe, then at Travis. "I'm sorry, Colonel. But I cannot accept this."

"Son, this could mean your life."

"Sir, I am already a free man. I don't need a document to tell me that. And being a free man, that means that I have the right to decide my fate. That's what my friends are here for. That's what we are all fighting for. I appreciate what you are trying to do, sir. But I am voicing my right to stay and fight for the same reasons you are."

Bossuet handed the document back to Travis before saluting and exiting the office.

Travis turned to Joe. "He's right, Mister William." Joe said. "Now that I am a free man too, I ought to have a say in what I should do. So, if Mister William don't mind, I'd like to stay, and fight alongside him."

The Colonel smiled. "Just be careful, Joe. I don't want you living a short-lived freedom."

**!**

There was a knock on Bowie's door. "Yeah?" He wheezed.

Davy Crockett entered, carrying two pistols in his hands. He placed them on both sides of the bed Bowie was lying on.

"Well…I guess this is it." Crockett said.

"Yep. It's a damn shame we couldn't have gotten to know each other…" Bowie said, clearing his throat. "Have you seen my knife?" He asked.

Crockett looked around, and found the knife underneath the bed. He picked it up and placed it near Bowie's right hand. "Let 'em know they've faced the one and only Jim Bowie." Crockett said.

Bowie nodded and said "Let 'em know they're fighting the one and only Davy Crockett."

And with that, Crockett walked out and closed the doors to Bowie's room.

**!**

Bossuet walked over to the Sally Port where Joly was standing.

"Listen." Joly said. The two of them listened carefully.

"I don't hear anything." Bossuet said.

"Exactly." Joly responded. "The artillery isn't firing."

"Maybe we can actually get some sleep!" Bossuet remarked.

"Sounds great." Joly thought.

**!**

Musichetta sat in a corner next to Susanna, Teresita, and all the other noncombatants. Soon they were all joined by their providers.

Almeron knelt down and put his arm around Susanna as she leaned her head against his shoulder, keeping hold of baby Angelina.

The four little Esparza children huddled around their father as he embraced their mother.

Teresita rested her head on Bernardo's lap.

Musichetta looked up to see Bossuet and Joly standing in the doorway.

She told them both to pretend that they were suitors and not actually in a polygamous relationship, so as not to confuse the others.

"Senorita, given the circumstances of tonight, we've both decided to put our dispute over your hand to rest, and have reached a compromise. If we are to get sleep tonight, with your permission, we'd both like to spend the night here in your company."

Musichetta looked at Joly confused. She didn't think he'd play it out this well. She shrugged her shoulders and permitted them to join her on both sides against the wall. They had their arms around her and soon they fell asleep.

**Santa Anna's Headquarters**

**San Antonio de Bexar**

Castrillion and Almonte were pacing back and forth inside the dining room, where a map of the Alamo was residing on the table.

"Do you think she'll be able to persuade him?" Castrillion asked.

"Hopefully, she'll be very skilled in the art of 'persuading' His Excellency." Almonte said.

Castrillion coughed in scoff, before the door to Santa Anna's bedroom opened. Out of the bedroom emerged a young woman, coughing as if she were choking, as she hustled out of the room. She was clearly upset.

A moment later, Santa Anna emerged from the room, zipping up his pants. "Gentlemen…let us prepare for the planning of the attack."

**!**

"I have heard the requests put forth in front of me. And I have allowed for a few considerations." The Dictator said.

"First thing I have changed my mind on is this: the women and children inside the Mission shall be spared after all. They may actually prove useful to me if kept alive. I want the woman, Mrs. Dickinson singled out so that I may speak with her in person.

"Secondly, I hereby excuse all soldiers who currently reside here in Bexar, from participating in the attack. That being said, who is the soldier that has a brother inside the Mission?" Santa Anna asked.

Colonel Bartes picked up his roster list. "Private Francisco Esparza, Your Excellency." He said.

"Very well." Santa Anna said. "He shall be excused from the fight as well. Now, let us discuss how the attack shall commence.

"The North Wall is the weakest point of defense. I want General Cos attack the north directly, and for Colonel Duque to advance from the northeast, supported by Colonel Romero. From the South, I want Colonel Morales to focus on the weak wall near the chapel."

"Any questions?" Santa Anna asked.

Castrillion leaned forward. "Your Excellency, our two 12-pounder cannons should be arriving tomorrow. They can easily demolish that line of wood by the South Wall. Why risk our soldiers trying to take that wall if it can be taken down with three or four shells?"

Santa Anna rubbed his forehead in an exasperated sigh, as if he hasn't made himself clear enough. "Castrillion, what are the lives of soldiers but so many chickens? I tell you, the Alamo must fall tonight! There is no glory without bloodshed of our own!"

Almonte cleared his throat. "Your Excellency, once the walls have been breached, what shall we do about the opposition, if they surrender or are captured?"

Santa Anna took the teapot and poured it into his cup. "How many times must we go over this, gentlemen. There will be no prisoners. I do not want to see one single combatant left alive! Do I have to make it any simpler than that?!"

Castrillion shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Excellency, we've already exhausted the Texians for two weeks. I am sure they will want to surrender once we have them cornered."

Santa Anna chuckled. He then dragged the bowl of sugar closer to him. "Castrillion, why do we not pretend that this sugar represents the Texians…or, should we just say anyone who opposes me in general, and the tea is me." He said, before taking a teaspoonful of sugar, and dumping it into his cup of tea. "That spoonful was the resistance in Zacatecas. Notice, how as I stir it, it dissipates inside the tea. Now the sugar cannot be seen." He took another spoonful and dumped it in. "And another group of rebels that we've just dealt with before arriving here."

Suddenly he threw the teaspoon away, and took the whole bowl of sugar and shoved it into the cup of tea, smothering the liquid entirely and overloading it with sugar.

"That is what will happen if we permit even one or two of the rebels to live, let alone be taken prisoners! If they are allowed to live, they will find means of escape, and warn their friends, and then they will retaliate against me! This is why I march across Texas! We are here to show these traitors that I am in charge! ME! NOT THOSE FILTHY AMERICAN SCUM!" Santa Anna bellowed.

The room sat in silence for a good minute or two, before Santa Anna spoke again.

"Finally, gentlemen, I will have my breakfast served inside the Alamo tomorrow morning."

**MARCH 6** **th** **, 1836**

**DAY THIRTEEN**

**5:25 AM**

The 2,000 Mexican soldiers have been lying on the cold wet ground for several hours. At a given signal, they would sneak up under the cover of darkness, and the silence of the artillery, scale the walls, and bayonet the defenders point blank.

Unfortunately, for Santa Anna, some of the soldiers began to grow antsy…

**!**

Enjolras slept against the palisade next to Crockett and Grantaire. He was awoken to the sound a metal instrument slashing against something outside of the wall. What he didn't know was that one of the sentries has just been bayoneted.

Before his mind could take another minute to register, he heard a shout in the distance.

" _VIVA SANTA ANNA!"_

" _VIVA LA MEXICO!"_


	6. Chapter 6

**MARCH 6 th, 1836**

**DAY THIRTEEN**

**The Alamo, San Antonio de Bexar, Provence of Texas**

**5:30 AM**

“Colonel Travis!” Feuilly barged into the Colonel’s office. “The Mexicans are attacking!”

 

“Come on, Joe!” Travis ordered Joe to follow him.

 

**!**

 

Just moments ago, a Mexican soldier’s anticipation got the better of him, and he cried _“VIVA SANTA ANNA!”_ , causing a chain reaction of battle cries, eventually leading the Mexican Army to charge the fort prematurely.

 

“DAMN IT!” Santa Anna yelled.

 

“Do not despair, Your Excellency!” Almonte said calmly. “They will not last long!”

 

 

**!**

Bossuet and Joly awoke from their slumber, and grabbed their guns.

 

Joly turned to face Musichetta. “Take care, now!” he said before kissing her and running off.

 

Bossuet kissed her next. “No matter what you hear, do not leave this room!” He said before following suit.

 

Almeron Dickinson embraced his wife and kissed his little daughter on the forehead.

 

Gregorio Esparza kissed his wife and hugged his four children before following Almeron to the back end of the church, where the cannons were being loaded.

 

 

**!**

Feuilly separated from Travis and Joe, and heard a cry for help from the Sally Port on the West Wall.

 

“Load up the guns! They’re advancing upon us!” Cried a Texian.

 

 

**!**

Courfeyrac hustled up the ramp to assist Major Jameson in loading up the 18-pounder cannon.

 

**!**

Enjolras and Grantaire loaded their rifles and took their stance behind the palisade, firing alongside Davy Crockett.

 

**!**

Travis, Joe and Bossuet ran towards the North Wall. When they got up to the ramp, Travis pulled out his sword.

 

“Come on, boys! The Mexicans are upon us, and we’ll give ‘em hell!” he cried out. Then he turned to a few Tejanos and said _“¡No rendirse, muchachos!"_ (“Don’t surrender, boys!”).

 

His words became drowned out by the increase in pops of the musket fire everywhere, accompanied by the impending cannon fire from the walls.

 

Bossuet picked up his rifle and aimed down at the charging Mexicans. He fired, and hit one in the neck.

 

_CRACK!_

 

A Texian yanked his head back, falling to the ground.

 

Moments later, another Texian got hit.

 

Then another…

 

And another…

 

Bossuet ducked for cover. To his left, three defenders were struggling to load a cannon. To his right, were Travis and Joe. Joe was loading up a shotgun before passing it to Travis.

 

Travis picked up the shotgun, leaned over the railing, and fired it twice, picking off two soldiers.

 

 

No sooner had the second soldier fallen, then there was a loud crack, and Travis yanked his head back, and fell backwards…tumbling down the ramp.

 

 

Bossuet and Joe both looked in complete horror. In front of them, the leader that inspired them to stay and fight…one of the people responsible for starting the revolution, a leader no older than twenty-six, was among the first to be killed.

 

While Bossuet hustled down to close the Colonel’s eyes, Joe simply walked down the ramp.

 

“Joe! Where are you going?! We’re getting killed out here!! JOE!” Bossuet cried.

 

But it was no use.

 

Joe kept walking away, oblivious to the gunfire around him. The last Bossuet saw of him was when he entered into Travis’s office and closed the door.

 

Shaking off what has happened, Bossuet continued to load his rifle and ran back to the ramp, startled by the loud cannon explosion, that sent twenty or so Mexicans flailing around to the ground.

 

 

**!**

Feuilly hoisted himself up over the wall of the Sally Port to try to get a shot at one of the Mexican soldiers.

 

The enemy was not attacking the West Wall at this time. They were raining down hard on the North and South walls. But Feuilly and his group could still try to fire and pick off whatever they could.

 

“Don’t fire the cannons until they charge us!” one of the defenders cried.

 

Feuilly crouched back down and held his rifle in his hands.

 

 

**!**

Joly was stationed at the cannon by the horse pen. Whenever the cannon would fire, he would provide cover by firing his rifle.

 

 _CRACK!_ A defender fell.

 

 _CRACK!_ Two more fell simultaneously.

 

“GET DOWN!” Joly shouted. “THEY’RE PICKING US OFF!”

 

Little William King was seen running up the ramp. “I got some extra ammunition!”

 

“Get Down, William, don’t you dare!” Joly shouted.

 

But it was too late. With another crack, and William clutched his shoulder. Joly crouched down to get to him.

 

“Here…” William cried, handing the bag of ammunition. “Don’t waste the shots.”

 

_CRACK!_

 

A bullet had barely missed Joly, and struck William in the chest.

 

 

**!**

The attackers that were being picked off by Crockett, Enjolras and Grantaire, were running around to the Southwest wall…where the 18-pounder was waiting.

 

Jameson and Courfeyrac rolled the cannon towards the advancers. “FIRE!” Jameson shouted.

 

Courfeyrac took the torch and let it come in contact with the cannon. The aftermath of the explosion saw thirty soldiers knocked to the ground by canister shot.

 

 

**!**

Bossuet was down to 10 rounds left. He tried to peek without becoming an obvious target. What he could see, were some of the soldiers carrying ladders.

 

“They’re trying to scale the walls!” He shouted. “Aim the cannons at them!”

 

After three cannon shots, another forty soldiers fell…

 

…but the soldiers just kept coming.

 

Bossuet looked up again, and saw an officer riding on a horse. Without hesitating a moment, he aimed his rifle, fired, and the officer fell off his horse.

 

Colonel Duque landed on the ground, and was nearly trampled upon by his own men.

 

 

**!**

Almeron and Gregorio were supervising the discharges of the cannons at the back of the chapel, while James Bonham was spotting targets.

 

Musichetta, Teresita and the others kept their ears covered as tight as they could.

 

 

**!**

Bernardo de Rodriguez was stationed at the Sally Port on the South Wall, filling up small bags of metal nails, hinges, anything that was sharp that he could find, as makeshift canisters.

 

The two cannons here picked off at least thirty five soldiers.

 

 

**!**

At least a half an hour had passed, and the Mexicans were not able to breach the walls. Dozens of soldiers began to pull back. Some were helping their wounded comrades retreat.

 

Santa Anna looked through his telescope.

 

“Report?” he asked.

 

“Colonel Duque has been injured. General Castrillion assumed command of the regiment, Excellency.” Almonte reported.

 

“Good.” Santa Anna said. “I must say…these rebels are offering quite the resistance.”

 

“Yes, Excellency. They certainly put up quite a fight.” An officer remarked.

 

“That is NOT the way I like things being done, fool!” Santa Anna shouted. “Order for another charge!”

 

 

**!**

The sky was beginning to turn from pitch black to a very dark blue, by the time the second attack had commenced.

 

For Courfeyrac’s team, there were only five bags of canister shot left.

 

Crockett and his team have only lost two men so far, seeing as how they never missed a shot.

 

Enjolras fired his rifle, then picked up his pistol and bent it over the palisade wall, to pick off a soldier that was out of sight from behind the wall.

 

Grantaire helped load the cannon.

 

 

**!**

Over at the North Wall, several Mexicans reached the base of the wall with ladders, and began to stack them upright.

 

Bossuet saw that one ladder was pitched close to him. He waited until a soldier was in sight, before raising his rifle and ramming the butt end of it into the soldier’s chest, causing him to fall off.

 

Soon, another soldier tried to climb. Bossuet clubbed this one in the face with his rifle.

 

Over to his left, he could see Lt. George Kimbell clutching his sword, as he swashed away with the charging soldiers.

 

He rammed his sword into the first attacker, then slit the second soldier’s throat.

 

“There’s too many of them!” Kimbell cried.

 

Suddenly, another crack rang out, and Bossuet could see Kimbell clutch his stomach. When a soldier climbed over the wall, Kimbell used the last of his strength to ram his sword into the attacker’s chest, before slumping forward against a cannon.

 

 

**!**

Feuilly fired another shot with his rifle.

 

“Look! Over there!” A defender shouted.

 

In the distance in front of the wall, Feuilly could see a line of engineers carrying large battle-axes…

 

“Oh god…” Feuilly whispered. “They’re coming right for us!”

 

Without missing another beat, Feuilly and his team positioned their cannons and fired.

 

The axe-wielding engineers were blown back by the artillery shells.

 

 

**!**

By the time the sky had grown a shade brighter, hundreds of soldiers were routing from the attack.

 

Santa Anna began to see red before sending in his reserves.

 

Now the bugles sounded louder, and the red flag waived higher than ever.

 

The Mexican Army advanced for a third time…

 

 

**!**

The soldiers sprinted towards the North Wall. Bossuet poked his head up to see formations of soldiers in the distance. They aimed their rifles like firing squads. He quickly dodged for cover. Amidst the hundreds of popping sounds from the formations, Bossuet saw another ten of the defenders get hit; and all fell dead to the ground…

 

He then turned his attention towards the soldiers climbing over the battle. One of them suddenly flinched as a bullet pierced him from behind. It seemed the Mexican squads were not aiming carefully.

 

But suddenly, three or four Mexican soldiers finally climbed up and over the wall. There were just not enough defenders left alive to prevent this.

 

Bossuet locked rifles with a soldier, before kneeing him in the groin, yanking the rifle away from the attacker, and using it to bayonet its owner.

 

He then took the bayonet rifle and did the same to the next attacker, then the third.

 

Suddenly…with the crack of a shot, a bullet struck Bossuet in the arm, causing him to drop his rifle, and his focus…when a fourth soldier rammed him deep with his bayonet and pushing him back…causing him to stumble and fall over the wall.

 

_Bossuet was killed._

**!**

Joly and his team started to shove ladders off of the walls. Some of them even had the soldiers still on them.

 

Private Daniel Cloud hustled up to join this group.

 

He helped Joly push the cannon forward and tilted it lower so that it would reach the soldiers below.

 

With the loud bang of the cannon, another ten soldiers fell.

 

But as they pulled the cannon back to load it, several soldiers rushed their ladders.

 

Cloud took the staff used to shove cannonballs into the shaft, and began whacking away at the attackers.

 

Joly took the torch and clubbed a soldier or two with the flaming side. He then used it to block an incoming sword attack, picked up his pistol and rammed it into the attacker’s stomach before pulling the trigger.

 

Cloud had jammed the staff into his attacker’s stomach, before kicking his head with his foot and knocking him off of the wall.

 

Unfortunately…Cloud did not see the soldier to his right with the bayonet. And as he fell, Joly locked arms with a soldier who tried to do the same with his rifle. After a few seconds of struggle, the soldier pulled away, punched Joly in the face, and moved out of the way as a second soldier aimed his rifle and fired.

 

_Joly was killed._

 

**!**

 

Feuilly and his men began to grow with panic, as even more engineers began to advance upon their line of defense.

 

They’ve only had enough time to fire the two cannons before their wall was suddenly beginning to crumble, as the engineers began hacking away with their axes.

 

Feuilly bolted towards the door, with enough time to see his men quickly overrun by the engineers and soldiers. He then looked around, and could see all hell breaking loose. To his left, the defenders were holding strong.

 

To his right, the Mexican soldiers began pouring over the North and East walls.

 

He was distracted a moment too long, for a soldier came up from behind him and grabbed his neck with his rifle.

 

Feuilly struggled to free himself from the clutch.

 

He then elbowed the man in the stomach, causing the latter to drop the rifle, leaving it to Feuilly to pick it up and smash the soldier in the skull with the butt end of his rifle.

 

Feuilly had just enough time to look up in front of him to see three Mexican soldiers riddle him with bullets, before finishing him off with their bayonets.

 

_Feuilly was killed._

 

**!**

The lack of cannon sounds coming from the North and East Walls had caused Jameson and Courfeyrac to turn around.

 

“THEY’VE BREACHED THE WALLS!” Jameson shouted. “TURN THE CANNON AROUND!”

 

Courfeyrac helped rotate the large cannon around, away from the West, and towards the Long Barracks, where the Mexican soldiers were charging the retreating defenders.

 

Picking up the last ball of canister shot, Courfeyrac jammed it into the cannon.

 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a crack rang out, and he turned to see Jameson collapse to the ground, clutching his neck. Courfeyrac bolted to shove the soldiers off of the wall. But he leaned out too far, and got hit in his shoulder blade.

 

Falling to the ground, Courfeyrac struggled to reach for the torch. But as he crawled up, another distant bullet struck him in the rib, forcing him to collapse again.

 

But this time he had the torch in his hand. Using the last of his strength, he raised the torch to touch the cannon, firing it and sending another twenty-five soldiers that were inside the plaza, to their deaths.

 

_Courfeyrac was killed._

 

**!**

It did not however, stop the soldiers from advancing. And inside the long barracks, all of the defenders were bayonetted at point blank range. Only one or two Mexican soldiers fell.

 

 

**!**

Bernardo fired the last cannon shot from his station, and was instructed to fall back to the chapel.

 

He emerged from the Sally Port to find hundreds of soldiers crowding over the walls and into the Alamo plaza. Without wasting a moment, he ran over to Crockett’s position.

 

“They’re behind us!” Bernardo shouted.

 

Crockett, Enjolras and Grantaire quickly turned around and saw that the soldiers were headed their way.

 

 

**!**

Almeron Dickinson ran back into the room where the women were hiding.

 

“Great God, Sue!” He exclaimed to his wife. “They’re inside our walls…the battle is lost! If they spare you, take care of our child!” he said, before running back to help Gregorio Esparza and James Bonham with the last cannon sitting in the middle of the chapel.

 

 

**!**

 

 

By the time the West Wall was breached, Jim Bowie was sitting up in his bed, with his back to the wall.

 

Inhaling a few times, he picked up both pistols in his hands and aimed them at the door.

 

As soon as it burst open, Bowie fired the two guns, taking down the first two intruders.

 

Then, with all of his strength, he took his famous knife and threw it at the third soldier, leaving it stuck deep in the latter’s chest.

 

With nothing left to defend himself with, Bowie closed his eyes, and thought of his wife welcoming him…right after the impending bayonets.

 

**!**

 

Crockett, Micajah, Enjolras, Grantaire, Bernardo, and only a handful of men, were among the last of the defenders standing…as dawn began to creep up over the Texian sky.

 

They’ve set up a barricade between them and the chapel.

 

Enjolras aimed his rifle. “Let us sell our lives dearly!” he cried.

 

Grantaire roared in acknowledgement before aiming his rifle.

 

Bernardo ran to the chapel just in time for the defenders inside to close the doors and to barricade it.

 

Crockett’s team had just enough time to fire their rifles once, before the Mexican soldiers were within hand-to-hand combat range.

 

Grantaire charged the soldier that was about to attack Enjolras. He picked up his rifle and began swinging it like a club, knocking over five soldiers in his path.

 

Enjolras stood on top of the barricade, with a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.

 

Major Robert Evans had a pistol in his one hand and a torch in the other. Trying to dodge enemy fire, he made his way to the chapel door, only to find it blocked. His task was to destroy the magazine room to prevent the Mexicans from getting their hands on the gunpowder.

 

It’s a good thing that he was riddled with bullets before he could reach the room…otherwise the women and children would not live to tell the tale.

 

Crockett swung his rifle around many times at the soldiers, as he stepped backwards towards the chapel.

 

Micajah fired both of his pistols before using them as clubs, before being bayonetted to a pulp.

 

Grantaire climbed up on the barricade next to Enjolras.

 

“Just like old times…” the once cynic had said.

 

The Leader looked at him and smiled. “At least you’re here by my side this time.”

 

Davy Crockett was pitched against the wall as he swung his rifle again and again. Soon, he was out of sight as the soldiers piled up against him.

 

As Grantaire whacked soldiers in the head with his rifle, Enjolras locked swords when he could in his one hand, and fired his last shot from his pistol with the other hand.

 

Neither of them noticed that the 18-pounder was unlocked from its position, and was now in Mexican control…

 

 

**!**

Only Dickinson, Gregorio, Bonham and Bernardo remained. They stood in silence by their cannon, rifles and swords in hand, waiting for the moment to come.

 

Suddenly…without warning, a loud cannon ball exploded, blasting the doors open.

 

Almeron picked up the torch and whacked it on the cannon, sending canister shot at the soldiers, picking off fifteen.

 

The soldiers began piling in, and the defenders began fighting hand-to-hand with them.

 

Gregorio was killed almost instantly, with a bayonet to the chest.

 

Bernardo stabbed a soldier with his knife before taking a bullet hole to the forehead.

 

Bonham picked up a hatchet nearby and began hacking away at the soldiers before getting shot in the stomach and falling to the ground, face down.

 

Almeron Dickinson threw his torch at a soldier, sending him a blaze, and swung his rifle at another, who dodged it, before being so riddled with bullets that he fell back and slumped against a wall…

 

 

**!**

By 7:00 am, the bugles had called for ceasefire.

 

 

_Twice he charged then blew recall; on the fatal third time,_

_Santa Anna breached the wall and he killed them one and all._

_Now the bugles are silent, and there’s rust on each sword._

_And this small band of soldiers lie asleep in the arms of the Lord._


	7. Chapter 7

**MARCH 6 th, 1836**

**8:00 AM**

**The Alamo, San Antonio de Bexar**

When Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna entered the compound, he saw bodies everywhere.

 

A couple of soldiers emerged from Colonel Travis’s office, dragging an exhausted Joe before the General.

 

“You! You are from this garrison, correct?!” Santa Anna demanded.

 

Joe slowly nodded.

 

“I want you to identify the bodies of the leaders.”

 

Joe nodded once more, before leading Santa Anna towards the North Wall. At the bottom of the ramp, lay Colonel William Barrett Travis, lying on his back, with his right hand stretched out, and the other hand gripping his sword, and a bullet hole on the left side of his temple.

 

After pointing out Travis’s body, Joe then led Santa Anna towards the room where Colonel Jim Bowie’s body was. When they stepped inside, they saw Bowie’s body sitting upright, drenched in blood from the bayonet wounds.

 

And then when they got to the chapel, they were surprised to see a few remaining defenders with their hands tied behind their backs.

 

Grantaire was amongst them.

 

He had spent the time since he was captured, staring at the lifeless body of Enjolras, who laid on top of the barricade, upside down, his mouth bleeding and his shirt matching the color of his coat.

 

When the two of them were on the barricade, and the cannon had aimed at them, there was a flash of a blast, and when Grantaire came to, Enjolras was gone.

 

Davy Crockett’s body was surrounded by at least fifteen Mexican soldier corpses all around him.

 

“GENERAL CASTRILLION!” Santa Anna barked. “I thought I had made my orders very clear!”

 

“Your Excellency, I request a little clemency for these remaining survivors!” Castrillion pleaded.

 

“My orders were clear. There _are_ no survivors!” Santa Anna declared.

 

Castrillion sighed and bowed his head.

 

A squad of five soldiers lined up and aimed their rifles.

 

“LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!” Grantaire cried out.

 

_CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_

Grantaire fell forward, his head landing near Enjolras’s hands.

 

By now, the women and children had emerged from the chapel. Mrs. Susanna Dickinson was brought forth, clutching her little daughter tightly.

 

“Madame…you are worth more alive to me than dead. Take a good look around you. This is what happens when people oppose my regime. This is what has happened in the past, and this is what _will_ happen if the rebels continue to fight with me. I have a message I want you to personally deliver to Sam Houston. Tell him what you’ve seen here today. Tell him that I am coming for him. Tell him exactly what sort of a fate awaits him and those around him.”

 

Teresita de Rodriguez, who had just recovered from weeping over the loss of her brother, had just flinched at the idea that Combeferre would be next.

 

“And most importantly, tell him that no army in the world can pose as a match to that of Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna!” the mighty dictator proclaimed.

 

Susanna looked at him with daggers in her eyes…the same eyes that were watering over the loss of her husband.

 

“Oh, and one more thing.” Santa Anna said to the now-widow. “Your daughter will need male example in her life. It will be very hard for her to adjust. If you seek for someone to adopt her, I will provide her with all the necessities she needs.”

 

Susanna wanted to vomit right then and there. This man had just killed her husband, and then offers to adopt their daughter as if nothing had happened.

 

“No thank you, sir. I’d rather take my chances than to spend another minute here with the likes of you!”

 

“Mrs. Dickinson!” Santa Anna said aloud. “The only reason you are permitted to leave here alive, is because I ordered you to deliver a message to Houston. Do not tempt me to pass the order onto one of your comrades!”

 

Musichetta and Teresita went over to console the shaken Susanna.

 

The former did not even bother to look for the corpses of her friends and loved ones. She knew they were all dead…she wouldn’t have been able to have withstood the shock of seeing their mangled bodies.

 

She would end up regretting the chance to see them again…because almost immediately, Santa Anna issued the order for the bodies to be burned.

 

“Excellency! Pvt. Esparza has located the body of his brother. May he be permitted to prepare a Christian burial?”

 

Santa Anna sighed. “Very well.”

 

Castrillion turned and let his face reveal disgust. In fact, most of the Generals, officers, even common soldiers looked at Santa Anna and lost a lot of respect for him, because of his decision not to wait for the additional cannons. Hundreds of soldiers could still be alive.

 

The Esparza family glared at Francisco as he carried his dead brother’s body out of the chapel.

 

All of the other bodies…Crockett…Travis…Dickinson…Bowie…Bonham…Cloud…Jameson…Dr. Pollard…Bernardo…Kimbell…Little William…the Friends of the ABC…and the other 180 men, were thrown onto the bonfires.

 

 

**!**

Susanna Dickinson, Teresita, Musichetta and Joe were given a horse and cart and left the town of San Antonio de Bexar. They looked back to see the black smoke pluming from whatever was left of the Alamo. Joe took a deep breath and yanked on the reigns for the horse to keep marching.

 

**MARCH 27 th, 1836**

**Fort Defiance, Goliad**

Only weeks ago, Colonel Fannin was told of the Fall of the Alamo. Given the order to retreat, Fannin was ambushed and taken prisoner back to his own fort.

 

The Mexican General in charge of Fannin’s custody was more understanding than Santa Anna, and had sent a letter asking for clemency for at least the wounded of Fannin’s army.

 

The General had received a response…

 

Colonel Fannin’s men were told they would be escorted into friendly territory…

 

 

…when the Texians walked out in front, the Mexicans opened fire from behind.

 

 

“Do you have any last requests?” The Mexican officer asked as he pointed a pistol at Colonel Fannin.

 

“I wish to be shot in the heart, not in the face.”

 

“And?”

 

“I want my belongings sent to my family.”

 

“And?”

 

“I want a proper Christian burial. That is all.” The weary Fannin said.

 

The Officer responded by aiming the pistol at Fannin’s head and pulling the trigger.

 

“Burn his body. Take all of his possessions.”

 

In all, about 400 men were executed, in what is known today as the Goliad Massacre.

 

 

**ONE MONTH LATER**

**APRIL 20 th, 1836**

**On the outskirts of San Jacinto**

**Provence of Texas**

The day they found out about the Fall of the Alamo, when all that was left had approached Houston and his army to bring the bad news, Combeferre and Seguin were at a loss for words.

 

Combeferre became catatonic. He spent the better part of the night being consoled by Teresita and Musichetta, who in turn, were more than relieved to find at least one of the Friends still alive.

 

“I shouldn’t have left…I should’ve insisted I stay. It wouldn’t have mattered if Travis court-martialed me!” The bespectacled man said, as he held his head in his hands.

 

Musichetta picked his face up. “They would’ve killed you too. The Mexicans spared no one. He only let _us_ go because he had a purpose for Mrs. Dickinson. And you heard what she said.”

 

“I know…” Combeferre said. “God…we never should’ve come here to Texas. We’d still be alive!”

 

“No, Combeferre!” Teresita pleaded. “It was good of you to come here. If you did not leave the mission, who knows? The rest of Texas wouldn’t have been inspired to come and rise to the cause. Besides, Santa Anna is marching across Texas as we speak. Hundreds of civilians are fleeing in panic after they heard of the atrocities at the Alamo.”

 

“But…we were spared in Paris. We would’ve died at the barricades. How can you justify the fact that we came all the way out here only to share the same fate as would’ve happened to us four years ago?!”

 

Musichetta looked at him square in the eyes and said “Because this time, we have a chance! This time, the people _are_ rising! Not only Texians, but volunteers from the United States are coming to our aid! We are rising to retaliate!”

 

 

**!**

 

The whole Provence of Texas, and indeed the entire United States of America were shocked, and panicked at the news of what happened in San Antonio. The shock and panic grew into pure outrage as soon as they learned of the Goliad Massacre.

 

Sam Houston issued the order for his Army to retreat. Against many wishes, protests, and near-mutinies, Houston continued to retreat.

 

But what the army didn’t know, was that Houston was planning a strategic attack, one that would use a strategy tested and proven true by the Duke of Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo.

 

An appropriate analogy, considering they were dealing with the Napoleon of the West.

 

 

**APRIL 21 st, 1836**

**San Jacinto, Texas**

Houston and his men were perched at the top of a long hill. At the bottom of the hill, they found the Mexican soldiers camped out and they could hear music being played.

 

“They’re having a siesta…” Seguin scoffed. “They have no idea…”

 

Combeferre clutched tightly onto his rifle, as he took his stance with dozens of other Texians and now Americans.

 

Teresita and Musichetta were taken back to the camp for protection.

 

 

**FIVE MINUTES EARLIER**

“Must you go with them?!” Teresita pleaded. “You could be killed too!”

 

“If I die, I will have died knowing that I have avenged my brothers. None of us ever imagined that we would be involved in the slightest in this revolution. Now, it’s become personal.”

 

“But I’ve already lost my brother, Combeferre. I don’t want to lose you too…” Teresita insisted.

 

The Guide looked at her.

 

“I know I may seem like I’m forgetting myself…but I’ve grown fond of you. I’ve only known you a day or two…and yet when I see you…I see so much hope for the future. I don’t know how…and I know it doesn’t make sense…but that is what I feel.”

 

Combeferre took her face in his hands and kissed her on the lips, silencing her.

 

At first, Teresita wanted to pull back from the shock, but eventually gave in and wrapped her arms around him.

 

After finally pulling back, Combeferre pushed Teresita’s hair behind her shoulders. “Now this cause has become even more personal…”

 

 

While he was walking towards where the rebels were gathered…he could hear voices.

 

He couldn’t see any of them, but he knew they were the voices of Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, Colonel Travis, and all that have fallen. He felt they were singing to him.

 

 

_The Eyes of Texas are upon you, all the livelong day!_

_The Eyes of Texas are upon you; you cannot get away!_

_Do not think you can escape them, from night ‘til early in the morn!_

_The Eyes of Texas are upon you, ‘til Gabriel blows his horn!_

Combeferre nodded to himself. He knew he had to do this. If not for his fallen comrades, then those for the life of Texas.

 

**!**

On Houston’s orders, the two cannons they had with them opened fire. When they saw small puffs of black smoke emerge from the encampment, Houston drew his sword.

 

“This is a battle we shall remember for a long time, gentlemen! We will remember every moment! We will remember the outcome! We will remember those of us that may die! But most importantly, gentlemen…Remember Goliad! REMEMBER THE ALAMO! CHARGE!!!!!!”

 

And on that, the Texians and Americans bolted down the hill like madmen.

 

Along the way, at least Eight Texians were killed. Houston, riding on his horse, fell off his horse and injured his leg…

 

…but the rebels kept on charging.

 

 

**!**

Already exhausted and broken from their engagement at the Alamo, and from the tiresome marches afterwards, the Mexican Soldiers offered little resistance, and only fired their rifles maybe once or twice before retreating.

 

It was only a minute or two after Houston’s battle cry, that the rebels had reached the Mexican’s camp.

 

Seguin led his men on a Calvary charge. They had playing cards lodged in their hats, to avoid any confusion…as they were Mexican themselves.

 

When Combeferre arrived at the camp, he looked all around him.

 

Mexican soldiers being shot. Mexican soldiers being bayonetted.

 

Texians continuously crying “REMEMBER THE ALAMO!”.

 

Sparing no expense, Combeferre leaped on top of a cannon that was stationary, aimed his rifle at a retreating soldier and fired. Dropping the rifle, he unsheathed the two pistols given to him back in San Antonio, he aimed them and picked off two more soldiers.

 

He leaped down from the cannon and came face to face with a Mexican General.

 

He aimed his rifle at the General, expecting a fight.

 

But the General lowered his sword.

 

“Will you not fight?” Combeferre barked.

 

Manuel Castrillion shook his head. “I’ve warned his Excellency that you rebels wouldn’t let this go unanswered. This is his own undoing. The last I saw of him, he was running from his tent…leaving behind his mistress in a rather compromising state.”

 

Combeferre lowered his rifle. “Then why do you not retreat with your men?!”

 

“I have fought in forty battles, and have never shown my back. I will not do so today.” The General said.

 

The Guide nodded…when suddenly, a _CRACK_ went out, and Castrillion fell to his knees, then falling face down into the grass, with a bullet hole in his forehead.

 

“Damnit!” A Texian by the name of Rusk shouted. “I got to him too late. Was hoping to spare him. We may have needed him to get to Santa Anna!”

 

Houston was being carried over to the tents. “That may be easier said than done. The boys are killing anything in their sight that wears a Mexican uniform.”

 

Combeferre looked through the forest behind the tents. “I’ll try and see if I can stop them!” He said before running off.

 

 

**!**

But he was not running to stop the Texians. He was running to join them.

 

By the time they had reached the river, the Mexicans were being picked off one by one. Some dropped to their knees in surrender, but went unnoticed by the impending bayonets.

 

Combeferre waded in the river, and saw another Officer. This one he recognized instantly, as the man who demanded the Alamo’s surrender at discretion.

 

Acting upon instinct, Combeferre leaped in the water, and tackled the officer, using his rifle to choke the Mexican tight before snapping the man’s neck, causing him to drop in the water face down.

 

 

 

**!**

By the time Houston and his officers had called for a ceasefire, and well after the Texians were satisfied with their revenge, the battle was over. Santa Anna’s army, weakened and caught by surprise, were defeated.

 

It only took eighteen minutes.

 

 

**APRIL 22 nd, 1836**

Houston was sitting at the base of a large tree, his leg in a cast. He was eating bread with Combeferre and Seguin, and a few others.

 

“Suppose Santa Anna had escaped by the time we reached the encampment?” Combeferre asked.

 

“Impossible.” Seguin said. “We burned the only bridge that the Mexicans could use. If Santa Anna could’ve been seen, he would’ve had no choice but to retreat with the others through the river.”

 

“Now I hope you can understand…” Houston said. “Why I had persistently ordered that we wait for the opportune moment. This battlefield was ideal.”

 

Teresita and Musichetta had knelt down beside Combeferre.

 

“Have you killed any?” Musichetta asked.

 

Combeferre nodded. “Ten.”

 

“Ten?!” Teresita asked.

 

“That’s one for each and every one of the Amis…including those who fell in France.” He said, taking off his glasses.

 

Bahorel. Jehan Prouvaire. Eponine Thernardier. Gavroche Thenardier. Bossuet de Maux. Joly. Feuilly. Courfeyrac. Enjolras. Grantaire.

 

Combeferre, who was once gentle, and kind, and the philosophy of the Revolution, had taken in total, twelve lives in the name of a Republic.

 

 

There was commotion coming from behind. Several Texians had arrived, bringing with them an old man dressed in a plain Mexican Army uniform.

 

“Well I’ll be…” Houston began.

 

“Turns out this rat here was captured last night, and as he was being led off with a group of prisoners, Colonel Almonte and General Cos had immediately identified him.”

 

The uniformed prisoner glared at his two officers who betrayed him.

 

After the two officers bowed their heads in shame, Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna turned his attention to Houston.

 

“Sam Houston…I feel I should tell you that you may consider yourself born to no common destiny, now that you’ve conquered the Napoleon of the West.” The Dictator said.

 

Combeferre slowly stood up…his fists shaking.

 

“And now…” Santa Anna continued. “It remains for you to be generous to the vanquished.”

 

Almost immediately, Combeferre leapt forward and punched the Dictator in the face. Teresita and Musichetta raced forward to restrain him.

 

“You should’ve remembered that at the Alamo, you son of a bitch!” he shouted in anger.

 

“Combeferre!” Houston said, calmly. “That’s enough. We have him where we want him.”

 

“I say we kill him right here and now! Hang the bastard high on this tree and be done with it!” Rusk suggested.

 

Nearly all of the Texians shouted in cheer.

 

Houston remained calm. “Listen to yourselves. You would settle for something as trivial for blood. It would be so simple for him. But I want something that will be beneficial to us if he were kept alive.”

 

“And what’s that?!” Combeferre gritted under his teeth, glaring at Santa Anna.

 

Houston sat up and looked Santa Anna directly in the eyes and said “I Want Texas.”

 

 

**TEN YEARS LATER**

**MARCH 6 th, 1846**

**San Antonio, Texas**

_In the Southern Part of Texas, near the town of San Antone,_

_Like a statue on his mantle, rides a cowboy all alone._

_And he sees the cattle grazing, where just a decade before,_

_Santa Anna’s guns were blazing, and the cannons used to roar._

_And his eyes turn sort of misty, and his heart begins to glow._

_And he takes his hat off slowly, to the men of Alamo._

Combeferre galloped towards the town of San Antonio…no longer the town with _de Bexar_ in its name.

 

When Santa Anna was captured, he signed over all rights of Texas to the Americans in exchange for his own life.

 

The Republic of Texas was formed, and Mexicans everywhere who were loyal to Santa Anna were forced out of the state.

 

In 1845, Texas became a part of the United States of America, probably the only state in the entire country to gain its statehood…by bloodshed.

 

When Combeferre arrived and hopped off his horse, he instantly fell down to his knees.

 

All that was left of the Alamo was the decrepit church. Everything else was torn down during its control under the Mexicans.

 

But now it stood alone…no longer a mere church, but as a shrine. A shrine to the immortals that were only just mere men.

 

Combeferre walked towards the chapel with his horse. He dug out his rifle and a shovel, and entered the doors. Seeing no one around, he dug a hole and placed the rifle that was given to him during the 13-Day Siege, deep inside the ground.

 

Having buried it, he exited the chapel, leapt back on his horse, and galloped away to his settlement where he lived, with his wife Teresita, and their six children.

 

He would never forget his friends, and he would always until the end of his days…Remember the Alamo.

 

 

_Let the old man tell the story; let the legend grow and grow,_

_Of the Thirteen Days of Glory at the Siege of Alamo_

_Lift the tattered banners proudly, while the Eyes of Texas shine!_

_Let the Fort that was a Mission be an Everlasting Shrine!_

_Once they fought to give us freedom; that is all we need to know_

_Of the Thirteen Days of Glory at the Siege of Alamo…_

_OF THE THIRTEEN DAYS OF GLORY AT THE SIEGE OF ALAMO!_


End file.
